All Creation Sings
by seilleanmor
Summary: Holiday fic. A chapter a day. Spoilers for all US aired episodes.
1. Cataglottism

mind without soul may blast some universe

to might have been, and stop ten thousand stars

but not one heartbeat of this child; nor shall

even prevail a million questionings

against the silence of his mother's smile

-whose only secret all creation sings

**- **_**from spiralling ecstatically this**_**, ee cummings**

* * *

**December 1: Cataglottism**

* * *

"Morning."

Castle presses his mouth to her cheekbone, his lips brushing the silvery line that Tyson left there, hand coming up to cup her elbow.

Kate sighs, sinks into him just a little, her breath a cloud at his neck. "Hey."

He passes her a coffee cup, covers her hand with his own to wrap her fingers around it, make sure she has it securely. Last week she'd been ruminating over the case when he'd handed it to her and when he let go she dropped it; the coffee pooling in the snow like a crime scene all of its own.

He steps back from her, adjusts his scarf where she's nudged it aside with her nose, trying to find some warmth, some shelter from the wind that cuts bone deep. "What do we have?"

She half-turns back to him, the slope of her nose a siren song. "Looking like a suicide so far, but we can't be sure just yet."

"Oh. Poor guy." She starts striding away and he jogs a little to catch up, feeling ridiculous. He just keeps getting distracted by the condensation of her breath, the tops of her ears wind bitten and tender-looking, crying out for the healing balm of his mouth.

Kate crouches down next to Lanie, pulling on latex gloves as she goes. She won't wear real gloves, knitted ones, and every time she laces icy fingers with his he yelps, and every time she tells him it's too much hassle to keep taking them off whenever she has to look at evidence.

He's pretty sure she just wants an excuse to keep holding his hand.

"He definitely came out of the window, but whether he fell or was pushed I can't tell just yet." Lanie looks up at him, shoots a pointed glance from Beckett's coffee cup to his own.

He swallows, takes an involuntary step back, clutching his cup to his chest like that can save him from Lanie's wrath. "Uh, hey Lanie."

"I get that Beckett's your girlfriend and you're being all _cute_ getting coffee for her," she stands up, jabs him with her pen. "But she's not the only one that needs the warmth and it's not like you can't afford it."

Kate raises an eyebrow at her friend, mouth dragged up at the corners with amusement. "Lanie, you don't even drink coffee."

"Yes, but I'd appreciate the sentiment."

Castle rubs at his arm with his free hand, shoots Kate a look like she'll help but of course she's laughing at him, her eyes too bright for a crime scene in December. "Okay, okay. Next scene, I'll bring you tea or something. But you'll have to text me and let me know it's going to be you handling the body. I don't want to accidentally buy a drink for Perlmutter."

"You got it, Writer Boy. Now, I gotta get this guy back to the morgue. Any longer and I'm gonna have to wait for him to thaw before I can open him up." Lanie laughs, waves her gloved fingers at Kate in farewell.

Castle hovers, his thigh just skirting Beckett's shoulder as she crouches next to their victim, her hands tender as she brushes snow from the guy's face. After a moment she stretches a hand up to him and he takes it, tugs her to her feet. "Where are the guys?"

"Inside, looking for anything in the apartment that indicates forced entry. He didn't have any ID but the landlord recognized him when he found the body. Anthony Ellis, forty six, no family that the landlord's aware of." Kate blinks, the compassion-heavy drag of her eyelids making her lashes brush her cheeks.

He stands at her back a moment, watches the body as it's loaded into the ambulance, feels her list into him. He kisses the shell of her ear, hopes no one from CSU is watching. "You okay?"

"Hmm?" she turns her head, nose brushing over his cheek. "Yeah. Just- suicides are tough."

He waits, but she doesn't have any more to give him. "I know. Come on; let's get back to the precinct."

* * *

CSU sweep Ellis' whole apartment, find only his own fingerprints. And it guts her.

That was Kate, once. That solitude. She's pretty sure that if someone had swept her apartment when she was fresh from the academy they wouldn't have found evidence of anyone visiting, any sign of life apart from Kate's own basic functions.

She's ruminating over that at the board, where she's tacked Ellis' picture anyway because he deserves at least as much care as her murder victims, when Castle comes up to stand beside her, his hip bumping against her side.

He sits, his hand covering hers on the desk, thumb carving out the valley between her middle and ring fingers again and again. "Definitely a suicide?"

"Yeah." She turns to face him, his eyes knocking the breath right out of her. "I, uh-" Come on, Kate. Breathe. They're just eyes, for God's sake. "No signs of forced entry and CSU found a suicide note. He had no family, his boss doesn't know of any friends."

His hand moves upward, his fingers braceleting her wrist. "So now you just have paperwork to fill out?"

"Yeah. Why, you trying to escape?" She grins, her tongue slipping out between her teeth. He bit her, once, when she did that. It didn't exactly make her want to stop.

He pokes her side, travels up her sternum to curl his finger in the hollow at the base of her throat, stroke out and along her clavicle. "No, course not. I just have plans for this evening."

"Plans involving me?" She hopes so. It is Christmas, after all, and even if she's not one to get excited over decorations and lights, she does so want to spend the season with people she loves.

He cups her cheek for a moment and then his hand is falling away, folding into his lap. "All my plans involve you."

* * *

He nudges at her, his hands bracketing her hips, peppering kisses to the side of her neck. She swats at him, uses her key to open his front door, turning back to grin at him.

He remembers the first time she ever smiled at him, how it felt like he'd tugged on some human string in the cat's cradle of her heart. And now all the time she lights up for him, her skin limned with love.

They get inside and she turns to face him, her mouth glancing across his, the so-familiar taste of her somehow still shocking. "Come with me," he says, a wash of breath against her cheek.

She grins, laces her fingers through his. "Where are we going?"

"My bedroom."

"Oh. Already? I was hoping you'd feed me." She smirks, tugging on his hand to get him moving. There's no hesitation, no trace of annoyance in her eyes.

He laughs at that, shakes his head at her. "I _am_ feeding you."

He gets her into his room, has to wait for her to take her shoes off first and then battle with her, push her until her socked feet slide along the hardwood floor, but he gets her there. She stops in the doorway and he knows she's seen it, her body stilling under his hands.

"What is that? Did you bring me here to show me your advent calendar?" She turns to face him, that crease between her eyes that sometimes unmakes him but right now is mostly just delicious.

He kisses her, and God, she's so soft and warm and how did he ever get by without her? She slides her tongue along his, hums a sigh into his mouth, her hands cradling his cheeks. When he pulls back she's smiling, those gorgeous parentheses around her mouth that he sees so often now.

"No. I brought you here to show you yours." He tightens his grip on her waist, some distant part of him in awe at how he circumnavigates her even as most of him prepares for her to pull back.

Only, she's still smiling at him. "You bought me an advent calendar?"

"No. I made it for you." He lets her go, has to battle with the stupid thing a moment before he can get it off the wall but then he has it, can hold it up for her.

It's pretty basic, felt the color of moss, in the shape of a Christmas tree. Twenty four rectangular pockets and then a gold star at the top that serves as the twenty fifth pocket, but the look on her face-

Wow. It wipes his whole brain, his tongue suddenly this useless, heavy thing. "It, uh- there's chocolate. And something else. Oh, and there's another something else but they don't fit in there so I have them safe. You can take this to your apartment if you want, though."

"No." She's coming towards him, her fingers fluttering at the material, so reverent. "Can I leave it here?"

He brushes her hair back from her cheek to better see her eyes, cards a hand through her curls. "That means you'll have to come over here every day."

"Yeah."

* * *

He wouldn't let her have her chocolate until after dinner, and now she's deliciously full and sated, her whole body thrumming with a visceral awareness of him. His hands all over, his bare skin kissing hers.

He hasn't stopped touching her all day.

"You ready to open your first door?" He wriggles his feet, his toes pushing at the underside of her thigh.

She shifts, the hard ridge of his foot trapped under her. "They're not doors."

"Fine" He swats at her, gets his hands somehow underneath so he can tip her off of him and stand up. "You ready to open your first pouch?"

"You don't open a pouch." She takes the hand he holds out for her, can taste the sly grin slipping across her face.

He rolls his eyes (_really, Castle?_) and does this half-bow that puts his head at the exact right height for her to nudge her hip into his crown. He stands, rubs at his scalp and pouts at her. "Are you ready to look inside and then extract the contents of your first pouch?"

She smiles, shakes her head at him. "Let's go open some doors."

He stops her right as she's reaching out for the first pouch, his hand gentle at her bicep. "There's the chocolate like I said. And also a notecard with a word and its meaning on it."

Her head whips back around to face him, her gaze searching his face for some clue as to what that could even mean. He shrugs at her, this little-boy grin painted across his face. "I'm a writer and you're my muse. Stands to reason that I'd give you words. Just don't freak out, okay?"

She nods, her lower lip caught between her teeth. It takes her a moment to prepare for this and then she's sliding two fingers inside, fishing the notecard out first because she'll take words over chocolate any day, her eyes immediately drawn to the so-familiar handwriting.

And then she laughs, this bright, full-bodied thing that just bursts out of her, tastes effervescent on her tongue. "Are you kidding me?"

He grins, tugs her against him with an arm low around her waist, his tongue slipping past her lips before she can even process the sharp jolt of his hips meeting hers. He kisses her there in his bedroom with his notecard crushed between them like it's his last chance, his tongue travelling over the roof of her mouth, mapping the topography of her teeth.

She's panting when he pulls back, her chest heaving against his. He smirks, delighted with himself. "Can I give you your other thing now?"

"More? You're spoiling me." She laughs, reaching behind herself to fumble blindly for the pouch, get at her chocolate.

Oh, huh. Hershey's Kisses.

She unwraps it, slides it past her lips, watches him watching her. It takes him a moment but he gets it together, shakes his head and goes to his nightstand, gets something out of his drawer.

He holds it behind his back, shifting from foot to foot. "Some of these connections are a little farfetched. But I think you'll work out what I'm getting at."

He hands her the gift. Not wrapped, so there's no moment of suspense, no heady anticipation, but it's still good.

"Oh Castle. Like that first case, right? Like your book."

She tugs him in to her, her nose buried against his neck, fingers carding through his hair. Her gift carefully not between them.

A sunflower. She doesn't even want to start thinking about how on earth he found one in December because if she starts thinking about that then she'll start thinking about how he's given her twenty five pieces of his heart, one at a time, and she's really not sure she knows how to take care of it.

* * *

_**Cataglottism:**_

(n.) kissing with tongue


	2. Commuovere

**December 2: Commuovere**

* * *

She's not excited.

She groans, brings a hand up to her neck to rub at the knots forming there, fingers working just above her uppermost vertebrae. She finds the right spot, grits out a sigh at the sudden flood of heat through her muscles, all the tension gone just like that. She didn't get much sleep.

But she's not excited.

He's taking his time showing up this morning; she had to make her own coffee. It's cold now, the navy mug she always uses sitting on her desk like some paragon of all the failures she's clocked up already today. She got toothpaste on her shirt and didn't even notice until she was already at the precinct; there's a crusting white patch just over her heart that she can't stop worrying at with her fingernail. Her hair just would _not_ get under control and when she'd tried to tie it back she'd snapped her hair tie so now one stupid curl keeps falling into her face, no matter how many times she pushes it back.

And yet despite everything there's a latent hum of awareness in her veins, something bubbling just under the surface of her skin. It's taking everything in her to battle back her smile, get her hand out of her pocket and stop tracing the edge of yesterday's notecard.

She looks up and he's there, a manifestation of her desires, striding towards her as he unwinds his scarf, runs a hand through his hair. He looks dishevelled, scruff scattered across his jawline, but when he sees her he grins.

He takes his coat off, hangs it on the back of his chair, and she watches the play of muscle under his shirt, his biceps so enticing. "Morning."

He glances at her, an easy smile making his eyes crease at the corners. "Hey." He sits, hands her her coffee, takes a sip of his own.

"You're late." She shoots him a look, trying for stern.

From his grin, she'd guess mostly failing. "We don't have a body. I don't have to be here at all."

"Oh sure." She launches a paperclip at his face and of course it only serves to make him smile wider, that smug grin growing exponentially. Stupid man. "Like you don't want to be here."

He leans in to her, his elbow on her desk, forearm lined up next to hers so his fingers can dip into the crease of her arm. "Course I do. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

"That is _not _true. You're telling me you'd rather be here than back in the Hamptons?" She raises an eyebrow at him, pushes back that errant curl again.

He shrugs, digs in his pocket a moment and comes out with a hair tie, hands it over. "Sure, if here's where you are."

Oh. Huh. "Wow, Christmas makes you sappy."

"It's only going to get worse as we get nearer the big day. Prepare yourself." He grins, settles back in his chair.

She shakes her head, that curl getting in her eyes again, and then she remembers the hair tie he gave her. "Do I even want to know why you're carrying hair ties around?"

He watches her gather her curls at the base of her neck, fasten the tie around the messy knot of hair. "You looked pissed the other day when the wind was blowing your hair all in your face. So I brought hair ties."

"You didn't have to." She squeezes his hand, brushes her thumb over the soft hair at his knuckles. "But thank you."

He turns his hand under hers, his fingers thick in the spaces between hers. "Anything to make your life easier. And Kate?"

"Mm?" She can't look at him, not when he's being so tender.

"You have some toothpaste right there."

* * *

Esposito catches her trying to wash that damn toothpaste smudge off in the locker room, gives her a long look.

She's been getting that a lot from him lately, silent assessments that make her squirm. She's not sure what he's looking for, exactly. Maybe some hint that she's unhappy with Castle. She knows Javi, knows how protective he is. How he'll have her back no matter what.

He's gotten hurt because of it before, and the guilt is still a heavy burden that guts her every time she thinks of it.

"Yo, Beckett. Everything okay?" He tugs his shirt up over his head, roots around in his locker for another one.

She presses the damp edge of the towel to the stupid mark on her shirt again, sighs when it stays put. She'd change, except that last week Castle tugged her into a supply closet and somehow managed to rip her shirt so she'd had to change into her spare and then she forgot to bring a new one in with her, so she's stuck in her toothpaste-stained, damp button up.

"Yeah, fine. You sparring?" Kate glances over at him, back down at her shirt, sighs. She turns around, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as she leans against it, watching Javi.

He sits, tugs on a sneaker. She has to battle back her smirk as he wrestles with it, the tongue getting caught to the side of his foot. It wouldn't even be funny except he looks so very annoyed. He glances up, glares at her. Huh. Guess she didn't hide her amusement all that well. "Nah, gonna spend a little time with the bag. Castle ruin your shirt again?"

"No." Her cheeks flame and she ducks her head, forgetting that her hair is secured back and won't hide her face at all. "And he didn't last time either. I told you, it got caught and ripped."

Espo snorts, standing up again and slamming his locker closed. "Sure. Caught in Castle's fingers."

"Shut up." She swats at him as he goes past her, catching his bicep.

He turns in the doorway, levels her with a look that has her taking a step backward, coming up against the sink again. "You know I'm happy for you, right?"

"Yeah. You both are, I know. And thank you for not telling Gates."

He snorts, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. "Please. What would I say to her? 'Hey Captain, Beckett and Castle are banging'?"

"We're not _banging_, Javi." She shrugs her jacket back on, starts towards the door.

"If you say you're making love I am never speaking to you again."

* * *

"Here you go."

He hands her the glass, watches her cup the bottom of the bowl, the stem between two fingers. She glances at him, grins, and then she raises it to her mouth.

That gorgeous mouth, so tempting as her lips meet the rim, her throat working as she swallows, her eyelids fluttering, a honey-soaked hum of pleasure that undoes him.

She drops her hand, looks up at him with charcoal eyes, her lips parted in delight. "Wow. What did you put in here?"

He taps the end of her nose from across the counter, chuckles when she blinks. "It's a secret. But you think it's okay for the party?" He rounds the counter, sits on the stool next to hers, their knees bumping.

She takes another sip, grins at him over the rim of the glass. "Uh, _yeah._ The real question is whether you're going to be able to make enough."

"It'll be fine. Did you see your little guy?" He nods at her glass, stifles a smile. How she managed not to notice is beyond him.

She raises an eyebrow at him and glances down, and then there's that delightful peal of startled laughter that he doesn't even have to drag out of her anymore, she's overflowing with it. "What is that? Ice cubes in the shape of dead bodies?"

He beams at her, tapping out a staccato rhythm on her knee with two fingers. "Yeah. You like them?"

"They're cute. But why?" She swirls the glass, the little ice men bumping against each other.

He gets up, goes over to the freezer, tosses an explanation over his shoulder.

"They're today's gift."

"Ice?" She frowns at him, putting her glass down and getting up to join him at the freezer. She snakes her arms around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

He presses a kiss to her cheek, roots around in the freezer drawer for the tray, Kate still so warm at his back. "No, not _ice_. The ice cube tray. So you can make your own little frozen people any time. Ah, found it!"

He pulls it out, turns in her arms, peppering kisses like constellations over the canvas of her skin. She takes it from him, traces the outline of one of the little figure-shaped holes, the blue silicone bending slightly.

"And this represents one of our cases? That's where you're going with these things, right?" She looks up at him, eyes the color of scotch under the thick fringe of her lashes.

He runs a hand up her arm, cradles the curve of her shoulder. "Yeah. You have to guess."

"A frozen body?"

"Uh huh."

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, her brow furrowed. "Melanie Cavanaugh?"

"Yeah." He tugs her in to him, arms tight at her back, her head on his shoulder. "When you told me about your mom."

"I remember." Her hand comes up to play at the button of his shirt, her finger sliding inside, curling in his undershirt. "I didn't even mean to. I was so worried you'd tell me _it's okay_ or that you were sorry, but you made me laugh. No one had ever made me laugh when I'd told them before."

He kisses the top of her head, breathes in the heady scent of her. "I just wanted to make it okay. And I know I can't, but it doesn't stop me wanting."

"No. It doesn't stop hurting, but I'm living. Because of you. With you." She pulls back to look at him, her eyes glassy, gives him a watery smile.

He can't think of anything to say that won't be too much, but she's looking at him like she knows it all anyway and she's still _here_, her stomach still brushing his with every breath.

He takes her hand, leads her over to his couch. She waits for him to sit first and he tugs on her arm so she ends up half in his lap, a startled laugh bubbling out of her. "You want to know today's word?"

"Am I getting a notecard still?" She slides off his lap, brings her legs up so she's curled on the couch, her knees pressing into his thigh.

He gets an arm around her back to hold her to him; his fingertips dance across her ribcage until she squirms. "Yeah. But I can still tell you. It's relevant."

"Shoot."

"Commuovere."

She pauses a moment; he watches her taking in the cadence of the foreign language. "Commuovere. Is that Spanish?"

"Italian."

"Oh." She smiles, the light in her eyes such a juxtaposition to just a few moments ago. "It's beautiful. You gonna tell me what it means?"

"It means 'to move to tears'. Because that's what you do to me when you share these things with me, things about your mom, your childhood. It's so humbling." She shifts, and the sudden lick of the moonlight across her cheekbones ruins him.

He ghosts his lips across hers, gentle and tender at first until she's clutching at his shirt and tugging him down on top of her and he just fits so wonderfully against her and really, how is he supposed to control himself around this stunning, sexy Kate who is so open with him.

He thinks maybe he should be ashamed that they don't even make it off the couch, but all he manages to feel is pride that she wants him badly enough to not care.

* * *

_**Commuovere:**_

(v.) to stir, to touch, to move to tears


	3. Trouvaille

**December 3: Trouvaille**

* * *

She lifts her arms over her head when he circles her wrists and tugs her, follows his lead. He keeps grinning at her, hasn't stopped since-

Well, since she said she'd play along with his advent calendar. She lets him tug the vest down over her head, thumb the button to power it up, his whole face alight with nascent expectation. He hands her the gun, tugs on the bottom of her vest like it's a parachute and he's making sure she's strapped in tight.

She rests against him for a moment, tries to let her gratitude leak into him. How thankful she is for this wonderful man who makes every day so joyous.

"Did you really buy me a laser tag vest?"

"Yeah, I really did. And I'm really gonna kick your ass at this, Beckett."

She snorts, takes a step back from him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her calves already humming with awareness. "Sure you are."

"Hey." He pokes her shoulder with the muzzle of his gun, genuine affront making his brows furrow. "You've seen me shoot."

"Got all three in the ten ring, huh?"

"_Yeah_ I did." He crows, pointing his gun in the air and firing off a round that does absolutely nothing of course because he doesn't have sensors on his ceiling, but he seems pleased with himself and she can't help but grin.

She's so soft now. He's taken her hard edges and molded them to fit against him, left her utterly unable to stop smiling at him. All the things he does that used to make her want to shoot him are just endearing now. He tucks his chin against his neck, his little-boy grin turning her knees to water.

"Shall we?"

She shrugs, her mouth turning down at the corners. He likes to trace the choppy terrain of her chin with the pad of his thumb when she pulls this face but he's not doing it now, too engrossed in arranging his vest just so.

She doesn't have any sort of plan. She's all bravado, squaring her shoulders and narrowing her eyes at him, but she's half-full of doubt. He could beat her, and she absolutely cannot let that happen, would never hear the end of it.

"So how do we do this?"

"Start in our respective base camps. First person to shoot the other wins. Simple as that."

She does a couple of waist turns, testing the range of movement that her vest gives her. "Right. Where's my base camp?"

"You're in the laundry room and I'm in my bedroom."

"I can't come in your bedroom too?" She looks down at the floor, feels her half smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

He groans, a low growl of pure need tearing through his chest. "You can come in my bedroom any time you like, but you start in the laundry room."

"We've never tried it in there."

"_Kate_."

* * *

He feels the steady kick of his heart against his ribcage, the adrenaline coursing in his veins, his palms clammy. Something about battling Kate is just so intense and exciting and yeah, erotic, because have you _seen her_?

She wraps her fingers around the gun, stretches them, wraps again, and he tries not to choke because that would give him away and seriously, he is not losing because he was too turned on to be stealthy.

He hates thinking it, but it's never been this fun playing with his daughter. Alexis is methodical in a totally different way, she knows the apartment too well, knows spaces that he still has yet to find. But Kate-

Kate takes risks, he can tell already, years of laser tag battles with her playing out behind his eyelids. Kate tries things that might not work just in case and it's so unlike her but somehow it makes absolute sense.

She's so near.

He didn't make a move when they started, waited to hear her. She thinks she's being so sneaky, taking a winding route around his living room because she hopes the staccato timbre of her footprints will throw him off, but he _knows_ her.

He knows her playbook, knows what she'll try, how she'll attempt to throw him off her scent. It's his job to know these things.

* * *

He thinks he's so good. Doing the obvious thing, hiding in the damn closet, as if she won't work out where he is.

She strides past, purposefully not looking, her gaze on the bookshelves separating his bedroom from his office, his eyes on her making her skin erupt in gooseflesh.

She'll let him have this a while longer, let him think he's won. Because she's going to take it all away.

* * *

She walks past the closet, so very close, and he holds his breath because he can't give himself away so easily, that would be entirely unacceptable but even so he's not ready to make his move just yet. He wants to watch her on the prowl a little longer, because the slide of muscle under her skin is so captivating and she's so sexy that he's half considering letting her beat him just to see if he can persuade her to comfort him with the slick slide of her skin against his, his sheets cool over the burn of their need.

But no. More than he wants that, he wants to beat her. If only because he knows she's only going to get better with practise and there'll come a time where he will never get the drop on her again. If he can even do it now.

He steps out of the closet, pads across his bedroom floor, his body shut down to absolute basic instinct.

He is a predator; he is a wolf-man. His thrumming pulse will not betray him, his breath a caught and captive thing.

He raises his gun, closes one eye, gets her in his sights. She turns, framed in the doorway of his bedroom.

And then she's frozen in front of him, a rabbit caught in headlights, and he sees her pulse jump in her throat, sees the wide terror of her eyes, and he can't do it.

He can't shoot her in the chest.

He holds her gaze and he can see that she knows, everything swelling between them, his lungs like molasses. She closes her eyes, sucks in a breath through her teeth, and then she raises her gun and shoots him square in the center of his vest.

The lights go off on it, inside the clear plastic casing of his gun. He gapes at her, can't make his stupid tongue wrap around words, can't do anything at all to explain, to comfort her.

She comes to him, laces her fingers at the back of his neck, their vests clunking together. He grits out a sigh into her mouth, pulls back when she tries to slide her tongue along his. "Kate-"

"Don't." She brushes her lips over his, carefully insistent. He opens for her, of course, doesn't know that he'll ever be able to deny her this.

He undoes the Velcro of her vest as she trails a line of fire across his jaw and down his neck, tugs the vest up over her head. She lets out this high keening and for an awful moment he thinks it's because he broke their connection but then she's swatting at him, holding the vest herself. "Castle, my hair's stuck. Ow."

She gets herself free, massages her scalp with two fingers, and when she meets his eyes he just can't hold it in anymore. The laughter bubbles up out of him, overflows into her, and she joins him, shaking her head.

"Did we really just freak out over that?"

She raises a hand, hides her smile with splayed fingers so he can still see slices of it, a half-drawn edge of her mouth, a shard of teeth. "Yeah. Wow. You're more messed up than I thought."

"Oh what, and you're totally fine with it? Come on, Kate." He gets his own laser tag gear off, drops it to the floor and kicks it out of the way because he needs her right now and he needs to not trip on his way to having her.

She opens for him, her arms a cove as she erases the vastness between them. He wants to say something else, apologise, show her the places that are still tender from that summer. But she's kissing him and he's hand over hand trying to hold on to a gossamer thread of sense and then her _tongue_

and it's just

gone.

* * *

"Hey Kate?"

She stirs, shifts in his bed, tries to escape some of the amniotic tranquillity that always settles over them _after_. "Mm?"

He ghosts his fingertips up her spine to knead the supple skin just below her hairline, languid and sated. "I'm sorry I couldn't shoot you."

"That's okay." She rolls to get nearer, ends up with her face mashed into the pillow, her left side pressed to his front.

He chuckles, his hand falling to her back, half-pinning her to the mattress. "Not really. I just- well, you understand why."

"Yeah." She rolls her head to the side, folds her arms underneath herself to better meet his eyes. "I understand. And it's okay, it's good."

"It's _good_?"

"Well," she shrugs, grins at him. "I won, didn't I?"

* * *

He disappears as she's drifting quietly. One moment he's there, his weight a lodestone in the bed, skin brushing hers, and the next she's cold.

She goes to find him, gets properly dressed first because his mother made herself scarce for the laser tag battle but she'll be back at some point and Kate would rather not be caught wearing only a dress shirt.

Again.

She finds him in the kitchen making toasts, his shirt tight across his biceps as he butters a slice. She can't sneak up behind him, but oh God would she like to. Slip her hands around his waist and feel him startle and then relax into her, his hands coming up to cradle her wrists in that way he does.

He sees her and abandons the toasts, rounds the counter and strides across the floor until he's right in front of her. "Hey. I was gonna wake you with toasts."

"Your being gone woke me instead." She picks at a loose thread on the cuff of her shirt, tugs too hard so it starts unravelling.

She glances up, expects him to be laughing at her, but he's just watching, such tenderness carved across his face.

She feels him slip his hands into her back pockets, the corner of something poking into her butt. Before she can question it he's tugging her up against him, legs wide to let his hips cradle hers, hands tracing the contours of her spine.

He kisses her hot and tight for just a moment and then pulls back entirely, negative space between them, the loss of his body sharp and aching. He extends a hand to her, his eyes imploring her to just trust him and she does. Oh, she does.

She takes it, lets him draw her in and hold her, his hand warm at her lumbar curve, the other still clasping hers.

He starts humming, and she had forgotten the husk and roll and cadence of his voice when he sings, forgotten how he sounded in the shower that third morning, but her cells remember and now they join him, exalting.

She follows the drag and pull of his body as he dances her around his living room to the rhythm of his own song, swept away by him. His eyes are closed and she touches the fingertips of her free hand to his cheek, marks her place.

He turns his head to kiss her palm, stays awhile, his mouth flush to the concave arch of her hand. She breaks his hold on her other hand so she's free to slide up to his neck and hold on, his arms pinning her to his chest.

He laughs quietly, an age-old thing, dusts a fleeting kiss to her temple. "Who knew you could dance."

"Who knew you could shoot."

* * *

Later, in the elevator on her way back to her apartment, she remembers the sharp bite of something as he slipped it into her pocket.

She pulls it out, laughs when she sees it's her word of the day, and oh, it's fitting.

She loves him. Lovely, beautiful man.

* * *

_**Trouvaille:**_

(n.) something lovely discovered by chance

* * *

This is a pretty shameless plug, but I have a tumblr, katiehoughton, and you guys should totally come talk to me :) I might even post extras over there, who knows?


	4. Basorexia

**As of now, this thing goes AU. I might throw some of the details from yesterday's episode in to later chapters, though. Also, thank you so much for your amazing response so far. It is so very much appreciated. **

* * *

**December 4: Basorexia**

* * *

He sneaks in while she's sleeping, uses the key she gave him. He still can't quite believe she did that, but he'd woken up one morning about a week after her standoff with Bracken to find her poking him with the business end of the key, her face creased with amusement.

She'd said it was so that she could leave for work before him to avoid suspicion and he'd be able to lock up, and he'll take that, because he gets to take the key as well.

He wants to just get in, complete his mission and get out, but he can't. He already knows he can't before he's even through the door.

They slept separately last night because he's not allowed at the precinct today, Gates' orders, and he thought it'd be easier to be apart if they didn't start the day together.

Of course, now he's standing in the doorway to her bedroom watching her sleep, so it's not going all that well.

She's so gorgeous like this. She sleeps on her stomach, one hand curled underneath her and the other in a fist at her chin. The lines of her face soften, the strength that he loves hidden under a blanket of fluid warmth and peace.

He won't go any nearer, won't risk waking her. But God, he wants to brush his mouth to hers; wants to slide in to her bed and stretch out next to her, cover her body with his own.

Instead, he turns, sits her gift on top of the coffee maker where he knows she'll see it. And then, because she's made him soft and he can't help himself, he gets her mug out of the cupboard for her, a spoon, rests them side by side on the counter.

He half wants to leave a note but there's nothing left unsaid by the gift, the mug. A note is inane. He goes back for a last look at her, tries to breathe her in to get him through today, and then he's really gone, back out into the almost stillness of New York at 3am.

* * *

His phone flashes while he's getting breakfast and it's her, and she's sent him a picture of herself sitting at the counter with her mug cradled in one hand, the stuffed animal tucked under her chin.

It leers up at her with its one good eye and he laughs, calls her back.

"You found him."

He hears her laughing on the other end of the line, her voice distorted because he knows she'll have her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder while she cradles her coffee with both hands. "Yeah. Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Really? He's not that scary." He settles onto a stool at his counter, risks a spoonful of cereal, tries not to notice the loneliness of his bowl.

"Well he was when I wasn't expecting anyone to have been in my apartment. How did you even manage not to wake me?"

"I'm a ninja."

She laughs at that and he hears her take a sip of coffee and he wants to taste it too, wants to slip his tongue past her lips and take from her. "You're something."

"You like him?" He stirs his cereal around and around, watches it dissolving into the milk. When he was a little boy his mother would yell at him for wasting it and there's still a spark of adrenaline at defying her even now.

He can hear the brush of Kate's hair that means she's shaking her head at him, her voice rich with a smile when she speaks. "He's cute. But what is he?"

"Detective Beckett, meet Monkey Bunky."

She must have just taken a sip of her drink because she chokes; he hears her gasping for breath, a clattering that might be her dropping the mug. "Castle, tell me you didn't steal your daughter's stuffed animal to give it to me."

"No! No, I wouldn't do that. No. She gave him to me to give to you." He stands, takes his bowl over to the sink and dumps it in there; his whole body suddenly alight with a desperate need to be active.

"What? Why would she do that?"

"He was in her box of things to leave here but she told me she wanted him to go to a good home. Wanted him to be with you." He doesn't tell her the rest of what his daughter said, how she told him to give Monkey Bunky to Kate because she wanted the stuffed animal to be kept safe for her brothers and sisters and she didn't trust her father to do it.

Kate makes this noise of acceptance and he knows he has her, knows she'll keep the monkey. "Alright. Well, tell her thank you."

"Tell her yourself." Silence settles over them, ripe with everything they still haven't discussed, the unease still there between his girlfriend and his daughter, even if Alexis seems okay with it. Even if Alexis is okay with him and Kate having _kids_.

Kate hums, her voice stirring something in his gut even now. "Okay. I have to go. I'll call you later?"

"Yeah. I'll be here, writing."

"You got an alibi?"

He laughs, startled to find that he's able to so soon after that case, after Tyson. "Mother's here. Don't worry. See you later."

"Yeah. See you." She hangs up on him and he clicks the button to lock his phone, drops it into his pocket.

It's going to be a long day.

* * *

He keeps texting her song lyrics, modified to fit their situation. It's not cute. Not even a little bit.

Ever since the first text, their conversation from years ago now keeps rolling through her mind, its weight a magnet that draws all her thoughts in so she can't focus on anything past his crooked smile.

_How do you know when you're in love?_

_All the songs make sense._

And damn him, they do.

Her phone flashes again and she glances towards the captain's office, making sure that Gates isn't watching her. She's already had a couple of stern looks today, not to mention the teasing from the boys about her pining for Castle.

She's not pining. Not really. Sure, she keeps glancing towards the elevator as if looking enough times will make him show up. And yeah, she hasn't had coffee since she got to the precinct because it just doesn't taste right when it's not from him. But the ache low in her stomach that's only soothed by his smile and his kisses isn't on her face; she won't let herself show it.

She slides a finger across the screen of her phone, opens his message.

_I was working as a writer in a rooftop bar, when I met you. _

She shakes her head, a hand coming up to stifle the stupid smile that she just can't help, hides her phone under the desk as she texts him back.

_I picked you out, I shook you up, I turned you around, turned you into someone new._

She drops her phone back to the desk, taps the edge of the file she's supposed to be checking over with her pen. She's not doing so great with paperwork today; he's managing to be more of a distraction than he is when he's actually here.

Her phone vibrates, the tremors against the wood making so much noise that both Ryan and Esposito's heads snap up, their eyes hard on hers.

"Yo Beckett, why don't you just tell him to come in?"

She shakes her head at Esposito, shoots a look at Gates' office that she can only hope conveys some of the reason why Castle's banished for today.

She won't look at her phone. She won't.

She grits out a sigh that tastes like ash, plucks the cap from her pen and holds it between her teeth, wishes she'd restocked the bowl of M&Ms she keeps on her desk. She rests her head on one hand, tries to force herself into tunnel vision, see only the paperwork.

When her phone vibrates for the fifth time she gives up the pretence, sits back in her seat and unlocks it, scrolls through his messages.

_Detective Beckett! Playing along I see?_

_Hey, don't start ignoring me now, this just got good._

_Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry?_

_Okay fine. Don't go thinking I'm going to stop._

_You put the boom boom into my heart, you send my soul sky high when your loving starts. _

She rolls her eyes at the screen, taps out a response, Monkey Bunky falling off her foot as she shifts. She brought the little guy to work with her, and his tiny squished monkey face peering up at her from underneath the desk is worth the ribbing she got from the boys.

He's a reminder of what's at stake here. Not just Castle, not just their friendship, but his daughter and his mother too. He comes with a ready-made family and she'll do everything she can to protect the sanctity of that, keep it whole and good and good for her.

She takes a picture of Monkey Bunky at her feet, sends it to him along with her message.

_Monkey Bunky approves of your eighties revival._

His response is immediate, comes before her phone has even locked itself. She has to take a breath before she can look because the picture - the admission that she brought the ridiculous creature to work with her like she's its mother - might spur him to say things that are too much for her, things she's not ready to hear yet.

_I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby I'm sure. _

She breathes a sigh of relief, all the tension draining away from her shoulders. A shard of winter sunlight hits her desk, reminds her of what she's supposed to be doing and she taps out a response, suddenly overflowing with determination.

_Castle seriously, be quiet. The sooner I get this paperwork done, the sooner I can come over. _

_I'm in the elevator with lunch. _

She starts to reply and then the elevator doors open and he's grinning at her from across the precinct, the fingers of his free hand fluttering at her. She smiles back, stands up to greet him and take the bag of takeout, gesturing to the boys to join them.

All three of her guys follow her into the break room, Castle crowding her back and Ryan and Espo jostling each other to be first through the door.

She empties the bag, spreads cartons of takeout across the table. She sits at the head, Castle to her right and Esposito to her left with Ryan next to him.

Castle has his shoe off and his toes sliding up her calf before she's even taken a mouthful of moo shu pork, her throat constricting involuntarily until she almost chokes on her forkful. She narrows her eyes at him, kicks at his leg to win herself a little space.

It's not that she doesn't want to touch him, or him to touch her. She just doesn't trust herself to be able to _stop_.

They eat quickly, well-practised from years of having to grab a bite to eat in a spare two minutes before they had to be back out on the street. The boys chat with Castle about last night's baseball game and she watches, the easy camaraderie of her three boys a balm to the raw places of her heart.

When everyone's done, their cartons in the trash, the boys turn to face the door, Ryan tugging the cord to yank the blinds closed.

Esposito looks back at them over his shoulder, his face limned with amusement. "Okay, go ahead, say goodbye. We're not looking."

"But we're on the lookout." Ryan chips in, giving Castle a thumbs up before he turns back to the door.

She flushes, turns to look at Castle, and he's grinning at her again. He reaches up to cup her cheek; stroke her hair back from her face with his thumb. His kiss is light and soft, a tender brush of his mouth over hers that leaves her aching for more.

He pulls back, his hand still heavy at her cheek, fingers dusting over the half-moon of her cheekbone. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah. Okay. I'll bring Monkey Bunky."

He laughs at that and then his voice grows louder, no longer a secret thing just for her. "Okay guys. You're good to turn around. Thanks for keeping watch, much appreciated."

Ryan is the first to turn, smirking at them. "You got it, Dad. You'd better go before Gates catches you here."

He pouts at that, drops his shoulders and drags his feet on his way out the door. She doesn't watch him go, forces herself back to her desk. She doesn't need her team to think she's weak because of this thing with Castle, because that's not true.

It makes her so strong. She has him to lean on when she needs it, she has his unwavering support, and it means she can do anything.

* * *

She shows up at his door with Monkey Bunky cradled against her chest. She still won't accept a key to his apartment, told him once that she likes getting to knock, likes having him answer, the way his face lights up when he sees it's her.

"Hey."

He tugs her inside, kisses her so tenderly she could cry, his hands framing her face, body holding her up. And then he's leading her to his bedroom, laying her down, covering her form with his own, his mouth a trail of fire that all of her rises towards, searching.

Afterwards, her head pillowed on his chest, he whispers his secrets into her hair. "I missed you today."

"Me too." She lines her fingers up with the gaps between his ribs, all her curves flush with his hollow spaces. "Hey Castle?"

He hums, the vibrations sending shudders through her scalp right down to her toes. "Yeah?"

"Where's today's word?"

"Monkey Bunky has it."

"He does?" She draws a line up his calf with her toe, glances down to see muscle and sinew and bone all exposed before her.

He dusts her temple with kisses again and again. "Yeah. There's a little pouch in the inside of his waistcoat. The card's in there."

She goes to pull away from him, her laughter coming out on a sharp gust of air when he tugs her back to him, his arm circling her waist. "Don't get up. I have to explain it."

"Oh?" She rests her chin on his sternum, grins up at him, her legs bordered by his.

"Uh huh. Remember when we found the little girl, Angela? And you picked her up and you were talking to her and I knew then, for certain, that I wanted more than just sex with you. That I wanted all the in between, the chance to know you. And it made me want you so badly that it hurt, Kate."

"Oh Castle." She doesn't want to get up anymore, wants instead to lay here with him and trace the outline of their future onto his skin, make it true and known to him.

It's not like he's going to complain.

* * *

_**Basorexia:**_

(n.) the overwhelming desire to kiss


	5. Esurient

**December 5: Esurient**

* * *

She wakes before him, slips out from underneath the lifeless weight of his arm where he's tossed it across her back in the night, can't help skating her fingers up from his wrist until she meets his shoulder and bathing a moment in the pool of shadow at his clavicle.

She won't wake him. He sleeps like the dead, his body a heavy thing that she has to orient herself around because there's no way to shift him, no way to get him to give her a little space once he's out.

As she climbs out of his bed her hand falls to his crown, her fingers cresting over and down to the so-soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Pumpkin head, her ass. The man is beautiful. She traces the ridge of his nose and pans out, smoothing over the apex of his cheekbone, all the harsh angles of his face in confluence to make a tender and wonderful thing.

She watches him a moment with her heart in her mouth, the lines of his life all gone from his face, sleep crafting a slack mask of youth. It still stuns her, how she wants him so badly that it burns low in her stomach and yet also wants to mother him, wants to cherish the innocent little boy in him.

It's a humbling thing that has her leaving before she wakes him, running a hand through her sleep-mussed curls in front of the full length windows in his living room. The moon licks across her cheeks, her skin cast a shade of ivory that reminds her of her parade of elephants, how Castle will sometimes stroke a finger over their backs.

It's early, then. Earlier than she'd hoped. She doesn't do it on purpose, doesn't want to get up, even, but sometimes she's just _awake_, and that's it. She closes a few more buttons on his shirt, pushes the sleeves up over her elbows.

She doesn't need pants, a sweater, even though there's a dusting of frost along the windowsill, the city crusted in winter's sharp embrace. Castle keeps the loft nuclear all season because getting up at five for a body when it's cold is a horrendous experience that they are both eager to avoid.

Kate crosses her arms, leans against the window to watch the city below, inertia winding through the streets at this hour, only the very brave and the very foolish venturing out. When she's overflowing with it, the unnameable taste of tranquillity at the back of her throat, she goes to find her word of the day.

She's only gotten to open the calendar herself once so far, and as much as she loved Monkey Bunky and his hands in her back pockets, she loves more the delicious anticipation of sliding her fingers inside the pouch and feeling for the crisp edge of the notecard, drawing it out slowly just to tease herself.

It does remind her a little of Castle's fingers, Castle's teasing patience.

She doesn't even look at it until she's out of the bedroom again, wants to earn herself just a moment more of not knowing. She chooses a book from the shelves in his study, heads towards his couch. Kate curls in the corner of the cavernous thing, draws her knees up and rests the book against her thighs, the notecard still kept between two fingers. She sucks in a breath, turns it over, his cursive even now sending a jolt straight through her like a livewire at her spinal column.

When she smiles the stretch of her lips over her teeth is an age-old thing. So very grateful for him, how he's balancing the heavy words laden with meaning so carefully with the light ones meant to make her eyes shine.

She arches, catlike, the need for him a suddenly visceral thing roiling in her stomach, her muscles tight cords around her bones. The card has it right.

She is extremely hungry and greedy. For him.

* * *

She hears him getting up, clattering around in his bedroom as he tugs on clothes, and she wonders at how he ever thinks he's managed to sneak away without waking her. He makes a ridiculous amount of noise, but she won't ever tell him that. She loves the feeling of his eyes on her, how his hands will hover just above the smooth surface of her skin because he knows that to touch her is to wake her for good.

He comes through to the living room, running a hand through dishevelled hair, his pants sitting low so the valley of his hips draws her in, a sweet temptation.

She watches him over the top of her book as he stumbles, bleary-eyed, further into the room. When he sees her the clouds of sleep part, the leaves of night dropping to the floor so his face breaks open with light, cheekbones raised on a grin that makes his eyes crease up.

"Morning," he grunts, tossing himself down onto the couch and resting his chin on the summit of her knees, his torso flush against the slope of her shins.

She slips today's notecard between the pages to save her place, closes the book and moves it to the coffee table, freeing her hands so she can try to tame the mop of his hair. "Hi."

"How long have you been up?" he squints up at her. It always takes him such a long time to get functional in the mornings, unless he's waking to the slow slide of her body over his and the heat of her mouth open and wanting at his jaw, his earlobe.

She wriggles her toes against the bottom of his ribcage, smirks when he squirms. "A while. It was dark."

"Did you eat?"

"No. Waiting on you. I opened my calendar for today though."

He laughs at that, kisses the bare skin of her patella, his scruff just grazing the sensitive stretch of her shin. "Couldn't wait, huh? You got your word?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get your kiss?"

"Waiting on you." She grins, watches him struggle to make it up to her mouth from the awkward position he's in, all his weight on her legs so her knees become a stumbling block. He gives up trying to reach her, instead sits up straight and tugs her into his lap. She gasps, the unexpected momentum throwing her totally off balance, but then she melts into him, their hips aligning.

His mouth meets hers and the careful way he tastes her, like she is a thing new and unknown, is such a study in contradictions to the familiar frame of his arms at her back. She smiles against his lips, her moan breaking apart in her mouth as he sucks on her pulse, his tongue laving at her.

He doesn't stop until her stomach rumbles, her whole body shuddering when he pulls back to laugh at her. She swats at him, her flushed cheeks a surrender. "Feed me. Today's word hasn't exactly helped."

He laughs again at that, his arms contracting around her back as he goes to stand. She growls, her limbs instinctively tightening around him even as her whole body revolts at the humiliation of being carried.

It's different when he's holding her up against the wall, his hips rocking into hers, but she hates being belittled, won't let him do that to her. "Castle. Put me down."

There's none of the softness she usually tries to use with him, her words just the sharp edge of steel. She feels him swallow, but he doesn't slow down, doesn't even loosen his grip. "Almost there."

"I can walk. I'm not a child. This is ridiculous." She holds herself as far away from him as she can, and when he settles her on the counter she immediately slides off, presses herself into his personal space, her body radiating fury.

She could slap him. Instead, she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes a moment, the watered-down ink inside her lids helping her to center herself, remember the sweetness of this man. "If you _ever_ try to do that again you will not have limbs left to walk on, let alone take me with you. Am I clear?"

His hands come up to rest against her cheeks and they are too heavy she's_ drowning_. She shrugs him off, rounds the counter so there's something between them to stop her from hurting him.

"Kate I'm _sorry_. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I won't do it again." She can see the regret etched into his face and it just ruins her, all of her anger leaking out all over the floor.

She goes back to him, wonders if she'll ever be able to stop needing him so much, forgiving him so much. "Okay." She sighs, presses a shaky hand to the seam of her own mouth in acquiescence. "What are you feeding me?"

"What do you want? Pancakes?"

"Please."

* * *

His heart is still kicking against his ribcage, his brain berating him on a loop for being so stupid, for daring to treat Kate Beckett as anything less than an equal. He didn't mean to. He just didn't want to give up the warm weight of her body against his, the scent of her intoxicating, her supple flesh molding against his.

And yet despite his idiocy she's smiling at him between mouthfuls of pancake, even fed him a strawberry from her plate when he finished his own.

He's not completely sure what it is that he did to make her look at him like he is the only view she's ever going to need, but he wants to do it again. She finishes her last mouthful, drags a fingertip around her plate to collect the last remnants of maple syrup and then she's holding her hand out for him to lick clean and he just can't deal with this sexy, stunning creature.

What happened to reserved Detective Beckett who would never admit her attraction, never showed any of the desire that so obviously burns just beneath her skin now? He doesn't care, her finger is in his mouth and _oh_ he doesn't care, not when he gets to scrape his teeth over the soft pad of her fingerprint.

She hums, half-lidded eyes hot on his, and when he releases her finger she drops her hand straight to his leg, palm cradling his knee. "Why esurient, Castle? Are you trying to tell me to feed you?"

He gifts her a laugh for that, shakes his head. "No. It ties in with the fact that there's no gift for you today." She shoots him a look and he stands, holds out a hand to her, almost succumbs to the tsunami tide of relief when she takes it.

He leads her over to the couch where they started their morning, waits for her to sit first so he can make sure there is a careful distance between them. "I let my greed fuel me, push me to look into your mother's case for my own sake, not yours. You were right, I was selfish and arrogant and I cannot begin to express how truly sorry I am."

She opens her mouth as if she's going to argue but then she's closing it again because they both know he's right. He's right.

Everything that has happened, all the harm that has befallen her, it's because of him. The hurt they've caused each other, all of it is his own Atlantean weight to bear. He shrugs, feels his forehead folding into the grief he wishes he could wear as gracefully as Kate does, Origami cranes on her shoulders when all he's ever managed is a face of crumpled paper.

"That's why there's no gift today. I couldn't think of a single thing to convey how deeply sorry I am and how I wish I could go back, do it differently, spare your heart a bullet."

She shakes her head, eyes glassy. "No. No, Castle. No. It's not your fault. You know I would have gone back down that rabbit hole eventually, and without you who knows what would have happened to me. I will only ever be grateful."

* * *

_**Esurient:**_

(adj.) extremely hungry or greedy


	6. Mellifluous

**December 6: Mellifluous**

* * *

The flicker of lights overhead and the steady rhythm of her heels on the floor don't set her on edge any more. It used to, around this time last year, when her body crumpled and revolted, PTSD ruining her.

Now, she has Castle hot at her back, hips ready to nudge her forward if she falters. He tugs her into him before she can get into her car, a hand cupping her elbow, and she almost drowns in the gulf of his eyes, the buoyant grin that splits his mouth her only lifeline.

"Come to the movies with me tonight?"

A startled peal of laughter bursts free and then it hits her that he means it and she sways forward, her breaths in harmony with his. "Okay. Why?"

"Today's gift. I'll pick you up at eight."

She remembers a time when there'd be no kiss, when the invasion of her personal space was all the farewell she would get, but now her mouth is full with the taste of him, the promise of seeing him again in a few hours humming in her veins.

* * *

He shows up right on time, of course.

She's only changed her shirt, neatened up her eyeliner, but the way he looks at her makes her knees liquid, makes her feel like she could pool at his feet. He helps her into her coat, his thumb caressing the hard edge of bone behind her ear as he frees her hair from the collar.

She takes his hand. His gloves stop their skins from kissing but it's still good, still so very right. In the elevator he's strangely quiet, keeps glancing at her with this closed-mouth smile that she doesn't understand but loves anyway.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You're coming with me." He squeezes her hand, the grip of their palms making her fingers crush together awkwardly, knuckles crunching.

She frowns at him, the drag of her brows forming trenches across her forehead. "Castle, we went to the movies together years before we even started dating. It's not that big a deal."

He shrugs, half turns away from her, his cheeks pink. "Yeah, I know, but you haven't even asked what we're seeing and you're still here."

"Oh. Well, I figured it'll all become clear when we get there. Today's gift?"

He faces her again, grins even as the elevator doors are opening. "Yeah. Secrets."

"Oh what, you're a spy now?" She lets him step off the elevator first, ducks her chin to hide the smile when he tugs her after him a little too forcefully and she stumbles, her body catching at his side.

He glances over at her, half his face in shadow as he holds the lobby door open. "Nah. I'd suck at that. All those missions all over the world. I'd miss you way too much."

* * *

"You want popcorn?"

She grins, eyes wide, her hand still clasped in his. "Yeah. I'll get it."

"Okay." He leans in to dust a kiss across her cheekbone, still so amazed when she lets him. "I'll get the tickets, then. Meet you back here in ten?"

She lists into him, her heeled boots putting her at just the right height to ghost her mouth over his, give him just enough that his guts lurch to get closer, take more. "Sure. Sweet or salted?"

"Mm, you're sweet enough." She narrows her eyes and he laughs, backing away with his palms flat in defeat. "Sorry. You pick, but get M&Ms too."

She laughs at that, shaking her head at him as she dissolves into the throng of people, everyone converging at the snack bar en masse.

He allows himself a moment to observe her, watch how everyone else in the queue is drawn to her, all of them slack-jawed at the presence of this divination of God among them. She's _his_, and when she's done buying snacks every man in that crowd will watch with trailing eyes as she comes back to him, maybe even kisses him again.

He knows it's possessive and she'd probably kill him if she knew just how smug he feels at being the one to have her, but he can't help himself. He runs a hand down his face and sucks in a breath through his teeth, goes to get their tickets because if she finds out that he spent the whole time she was gone just waiting for her to come back she will shoot him for real.

By the time he gets back with the tickets she's waiting for him, the crowd flowing around her. He tugs her over to an alcove, hands her a ticket and takes his packet of M&Ms.

"Skyfall?" She grins up at him, eyes dancing with amusement.

He nods, takes her hand to lead her back out into the concourse. "Uh huh."

She doesn't reply, the jostle of people at their backs distracting them both. He doesn't understand why it's so busy today; he wouldn't have guessed that a Thursday would see so many people at the movie theater.

They find their seats easily, and she gives him a look when she sees he bought premier ones, but really, what is he supposed to do with his fortune if not spoil her?

She puts the popcorn in between them and shifts in her seat, leaning towards him. "So, why Skyfall?"

"Just because I gave up a 'certain British secret agent' to stay with you does not mean I'm not going to enjoy the movies."

"Castle-"

He captures her hand, surprised to find her shaking. "And by the way, even if I had given up Nikki Heat, that wouldn't have meant giving up you. I'd still have hung around at the precinct driving you crazy, still brought you coffee, still done everything I could to get past your walls." He kisses her, tangles a hand in her curls, marvelling at how she melts against him.

"I would have missed you." She breathes it against his mouth like it's some big secret, but it's not.

It's not. He knows. He's known. She thinks she was so smooth when he came back after that summer at the Hamptons, but he saw the hard set of her jaw, the way she trembled when he got too near.

"Yeah. Well, I'm not going anywhere."

The house lights cut out right as she's about to return his hesitant smile and he turns in his seat reluctantly, lasting all of five seconds before he's glancing back at her.

The light from the movie screen washes over her, deep shadows under her cheekbones and eyes he could drown in.

She pokes him, gestures to the screen, her voice pitched low. "Pay attention."

"Sorry," he whispers back, turning again and pressing three fingers to his mouth to hold the words back. He does so desperately want to talk for hours about how there was never a decision, how he would never have left her.

* * *

When they get out of the theater she's grinning, can't help it. He smiles at her, real amusement caught at the back of his eyes, hiding in the space under his tongue. "That was so good."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"So _good_." It's just fizzing up out of her like her stomach is full of Coca Cola and mints.

He laughs, grabs for her hand so she doesn't get swept away in the crowd of people pouring out of the main doors. Outside, the wind rushes to greet them and she shivers, presses tighter against him. His arms come up to shelter her, mouth spreading heat all through her.

Sometimes even now she forgets that they're doing this, the touch of his mouth against hers still so new a thing. "Thank you for taking me to the movies."

He looks at her, the city lights telling stories across the canvas of his cheeks. "Thank you for coming with me."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Come home with me." He kisses her again, tastes like popcorn and chocolate. "Please. We were apart last night and I miss you and-"

She quiets him with another brush of her mouth, pulling back to beam at him. "You don't have to convince me. I want this just as badly as you."

"You'd better get a cab then, huh?" He smirks at her, nudges her to stand in front of him and slips his hands into her pockets to keep her tight against him.

She gets a cab easily, has never really had trouble with that. Castle's hands are alive on her in the backseat, creeping inside her coat as she gives his address to the driver. She swats at him, shoots him a look even as she's settling back half against him, their thighs flush.

He walks up her leg with two fingers, patella to the crease of her hip, and then he settles there. His nose bumps against her cheek as he looks out of her window, his breath curling around her jawbone. She lets him pay the cab fare because this is his gift for the day and he let her buy their snacks so she can let him have this.

He stays close for the elevator ride up to his loft, the cold erasing all distance between them.

"You want hot cocoa, Kate?"

"Hmm?" She looks up from unfastening her boot to see him leaning out of the pantry, tub of cocoa powder in one hand. "Oh yeah, sure. I'm just gonna get a shower if that's okay?"

"Sure. It'll be waiting for you."

* * *

He didn't mean to hear her, had only been going to change into a sweater because his button up is starting to choke him, but her voice curls underneath the bathroom door like smoke and he's caught, sinking down to sit on the bed more heavily than he can excuse.

She's not all that familiar with the verses, tripping over the words she doesn't know, but then she reaches the chorus and she belts, the honeyed cadence of her voice doing things to the baser part of him that he would be ashamed of if he had any thought to spare.

She always showers after the movies, says the enclosed space for that amount of time makes her skin crawl.

He drops his fists to his knees, closes his eyes. He wishes he could see her, the ardent work of her throat, how her mouth wraps around the words. He loves the evangelistic richness of her voice, wonders for a moment whether she'll come to church with him on Christmas Eve, because Kate singing carols is something that will ruin him and he wants it more than anything.

He hears the water shut off, hurries to fish today's notecard from the advent calendar because there's something so very right about giving her it now. He intercepts her in the doorway, relishes the knock of her body into his, the burst of her flavour on his tongue just from the wash of her scent.

She looks up at him, water still clinging to her eyelashes, a smile already blooming. She fists a hand at her chest, holding her towel closed right between her breasts so he can't help but stare, a bead of water sliding from the end of her sodden rope of hair and disappearing underneath the hem of her bath towel.

"Hi."

He steps back, gives her room to get out of the doorway and start drying off, her back to him.

Her back and-

Mm. Yeahhh. Her ass too.

She tugs on yoga pants, one of his sweaters, the sleeves pooling at her wrists. "Cocoa ready?"

"Yeah. But I uh- I brought your word."

"Oh." She tips her head upside down, rubs at her hair with the towel, curls already forming around her temples when she stands up straight again. "Now?"

"It's relevant."

She takes it from him, a startled burst of laughter choking out of her when she reads it. "You heard me singing just now?"

"Yeah. Next Adele, hmm?" He raises an eyebrow at her, head tipped to the side.

She smacks his chest, eyes narrowed but mouth turned up at the corners. "Shut up. You said pleasant."

"Yeah. Pleasant. Sexy." He crowds her, hips knocking against hers and she shivers, fingers lacing behind his neck.

"Castle, cocoa, then this."

He growls, teeth grazing her collar bone where his sweater hangs off of one shoulder. "We can reheat it."

"Once we start we're not going to stop long enough to reheat it." She arches against him, the supple skin of her abdomen grazing his.

He leers, slips a leg between hers and then guts out a groan when she sinks down, hips rocking. "Oh really? You want me that badly, Detective?"

"One day too many, Castle."

* * *

_**Mellifluous:**_

(adj.) pleasant or soothing to listen to


	7. Arcadian

_Kudos to Shannon for coming up with the gift for this chapter. Thank you my dear._

* * *

**December 7: Arcadian**

* * *

When she wakes it's to a cloying kind of darkness that chokes her so violently she has to bite at her own skin with her fingernails, half-moons cut into her palms to let some light in. Eventually, once she gets her stupid heart under control, she can settle again. Push herself back down into lethargy, her body curling around the tangent of his arm.

He mumbles something, turning to mash his face into the pillow, deep rivulets forming in the snatch of cheek she can see. He's waking up, then. His brain rises to consciousness one cell at a time; he's been known to take an hour just to open his eyes.

She feathers a hand through his hair, sits up against the headboard to watch him coming back to her. His smile rushes in across his face when he finally opens his eyes to see her, a rip tide that tugs her back down against him, has her folding herself into his arms.

"Mm," he sighs, stirring just a little, his body still an inordinately heavy thing.

She kisses him carefully, doesn't want to overwhelm him and burst their languid and hazy bubble with the sharp snap of need. Her smile is all teeth, bumping against his jaw as he wriggles around. She gets her arms around his ribcage, holds him to her. "Quit squirming."

"Ah, crap, Kate, we gotta get up."

"There's no body. I don't have to be at work for three hours, Castle."

"Mm, yeah, I know. Today's gift. Gotta get it done before work. Won't be right afterwards." She nips at his shoulder, amused by the lethargy in him, inertia taking all his breath support so his words run together like tributaries.

She rolls onto her back and pushes up on her elbows, the ends of her hair just brushing the sheets. "You'd better get up then."

Instead of getting out of her own side of the bed she rolls over him, the lengths of them aligning for just a moment. It's supposed to be his punishment for making her get out of bed at all, but when his hips drive into hers she has to grit her teeth against a backwash of want.

She slips out of his side, saunters around the perimeter of the bed on her way to the shower, smirking at him when he groans and holds her pillow over his eyes, his free hand a fist in the sheets.

She isn't surprised when he joins her in the shower, less sleep-rumpled now, some of the hard edges of lucidity back in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He nudges her up against the tiles, keeps her in place with his legs wide around hers, hips rolling. "Saving time."

"Doesn't, _oh_-" she gets a hand in his hair and holds on, her thighs already quivering. "doesn't feel like it."

His tongue paints his response across the roof of her mouth and she doesn't even care that they're going to be pushed for time now because he feels so incredibly good and this is what she's waited for. This is what she's always been waiting for.

* * *

She's still holding his hand even now, still trusting him, and his heart swells with it, his ribcage full to bursting.

When they got out of the cab the sky was still soft, pale light dappling across Kate's face, but by the time they get there strands of gold are beginning to thread through it, a lithe web of dawn. She's soaked in it, her hair dripping onto the frost-cased grass.

He nudges her forward, marvels at the strong line of her body against the rapidly lightening sky. She turns back to look at him, sucks in a breath like all the air's been knocked out of her.

"Coonan's grave?"

She stretches an arm back to him and he almost trips over himself hurrying to her side, forgoing her proffered hand to wind an arm around her waist, keep her close. "Yeah."

"Castle-" she sways, her body catching alongside his, head turning so her forehead presses against his jugular.

He kisses the top of her head, his hand gentling at her upper arm. "I just wanted to remind you of how far you've come. You put him in the ground. You found the sons of bitches who hired him."

"And you were around when I did." She manages a smile for him and he kisses her hair again, gets a lungful of her. Not cherries anymore. She smells like him, actually, and it might just be the shower this morning but he wants to believe that it's because she's been spending so much time at the loft, so much time in his bed.

He smiles at her, surprised to find that he's able to even standing in front of Coonan's grave. "Yeah. I was." He shrugs, suddenly can't meet her eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, I guess? For not falling back down the rabbit hole, for not letting them win."

"Oh Castle." She lists into him, brushes her mouth over his jaw in gratitude. "Thank you for being there to pull my pigtails."

"Any time." He drops his arm from around her waist to take her hand again, fingers pushing hers just a little too wide as they lace together. It does unsettle him. How he doesn't quite fit, how he'll see her sometimes curling her fingers up to ease the ache in them.

"But Kate, you know what your gift is really?" He gestures towards the headstone, leering at her. "A dick in a box."

He's so proud of the startled laughter that bursts up out of her, proud to have put it there. "Oh jeez, Castle, I wish you'd never watched that damn sketch."

"It's _funny_." She rolls her eyes at him but she's still grinning, mouth wide. "Don't deny it, you totally had a crush on JT when you were in the academy."

"Shut up." She smacks his chest and then she's turning to go, tugging him along behind her.

He lets go of her hand to follow her down the narrow cemetery path, matching his footsteps to the tracks she leaves in the snow.

He comes up behind her when they reach the gates, bringing her back against him just with the brush of his thighs to the backs of hers. She half turns, nose nuzzling his cheek.

"Do you want to visit my mom?"

He feels himself pale, takes a step back from her, a whitewash of fear and guilt that turns his knees liquid. "They're in the same cemetery? Oh God, Kate, I'm so-"

"No." She reaches between them to brush her thumb over his mouth and crest up, sweep under his eye. "No, they're not. I just thought you might want to."

"Not today. I want to take a whole day to meet your mom, Kate, not tack her on the end of visiting Coonan."

* * *

He finds her cross-legged on the couch, the too-long toes of his socks tucked underneath opposite shins. She's got all her notecards so far in her lap, her Hershey's kisses cradled there too.

He grins at her and she smiles back, reaches up to tug him down to her by the shirt sleeve. He settles next to her and she moves her loot from her own lap to his, curling up against his side.

She unwraps another chocolate, bites it in half and gives one piece to him, letting him catch his teeth around her thumb as she draws back. He chews and swallows, watches her letting the chocolate melt on her tongue. She likes it better that way, likes to savor it.

"You feasting on kisses?" he teases, gathering up all the wrappers and tossing them up in the air. They settle over both their legs like a scatter graph of every carefully crafted moment he's given her so far.

She rolls her eyes at that, nudges her knee into his thigh. It's not like she's consumed a whole bag, she only had four uneaten in the calendar. "Yes. I got behind."

"Yeah. You want me to order dinner or are you full now?"

She unwraps her last kiss, closes her eyes as the flavor hits her tongue. "Not full. Don't mind what. You pick, okay?"

"Kay. You get your word for today when you raided the calendar?"

"I didn't _raid the_-" her eyes flick up to his face, his teasing smirk written all over him. That crease in his chin that she just wants to press her mouth to. "Shut up. No, I didn't get my word."

"You wanna go get it now while I order dinner?"

"You trying to tell me what to do, Castle?" She raises an eyebrow at him, lips pursed.

He kisses her frown away, chases a smile. "Wouldn't dream of it." He's laughing even as he says it, scooping her up to deposit her feet first on the floor. "I just want you to see it."

He smacks at her ass as she's walking away and she turns back, gives him a look over her shoulder that has him swallowing hard and pulling his phone out, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

Kate shakes her head, her closed mouth smile half hidden by her fingers. She finds the card easily, comes back to him just as he's hanging up the phone with the takeout place. He stretches out an arm and she goes, curling up next to him without even thinking about it.

It's so easy now. Everything. They're almost seven months into this but she feels like it's been forever, this ageless thing between them.

"What'd you order?" She fists a hand in his shirt, her nose against his neck so her air tastes like him.

His fingers tighten around her shoulder, jostling her to melt against him a little more. "Italian. That okay?"

"Sounds good."

She fishes the notecard from the pocket of her NYPD sweater, had it cradled against her stomach like a joey the whole way back from his bedroom. It's ridiculous, because she's not a kangaroo, she's not even anyone's mother, but she feels so protective over it.

It's not the notecard, not really. Just the words, the gift. Just him.

He holds it for her while she reads, his free hand feathering up and down her arm. "I'm not that."

"Sure you are. Those moments when it's just you and me on the couch, when you're kissing me like you're never going to stop. When I fall asleep to your fingers running through my hair. That's exactly what you are."

"It's because of you. You make me untroubled, Castle. Even when I'm scared it's okay because you're always right there."

He's kissing her then, his mouth like fire pouring down her throat and pooling in her stomach, driving her to lift up and get a leg over him, sink down, their hips tight together.

"You do the same for me Kate. Why would I ever be scared of anything when my girlfriend is the best detective in the city?"

She drives her hips down against his, paints a line of desire across his jaw, her teeth hard against his earlobe. He groans, fists his hands in the fabric over her hips. "And the sexiest. God, _Kate_."

"Come on Castle. Show me how untroubled you are."

* * *

_**Arcadian:**_

(adj.) simple and untroubled by fear or worry


	8. Kilig

**December 8: Kilig**

* * *

"Oh, good morning Darling." Martha gives her a flighty wave, three fingers fluttering from across the room. "You're here early."

Kate smiles, gets up from the armchair she had been curled in to accept his mother's hug, used to it now after so many mornings at the loft. "I, uh, I didn't exactly go home last night."

"Oh. I see." Martha winks at her, steps out of their embrace but keeps a hold on Kate, hands wrapped around her upper arms. "You know darling, love looks good on you."

She can feel her cheeks heating but there's no escaping his mother's gaze, no shying away from it. She doesn't even really want to anymore. Martha's smile is soft at the corners, easy and natural.

"Thank you, Martha."

Martha runs her hands down her skirt to smooth it out, goes over to the kitchen and then calls to Kate with half her body inside the refrigerator, head just poking out from behind the door. "You sticking around to help us decorate?"

"Yeah. I'm on call today so hopefully I can be here for most of it." Kate grins, already settled back in the armchair she loves so much.

She doesn't get to sit in it very often; when Castle's here he'll drag her over to the couch so they can curl up together. Right now, though, he's sleeping, so she can bring her knees up to her chest and bury her toes in the gap between the seat and the arm.

She watches his mother pour herself a glass of juice and then disappear off back upstairs, her heels clattering all the way up.

Kate finds herself smiling, in spite of the hour, in spite of the flecks of discomfort she still feels. There's just something about Martha that ignites delight in everyone. She wishes she could be more like that sometimes; wear her emotions on the surface.

She wraps her arms around the giant ragdoll that Castle keeps in this chair like it's a cushion, scrolls through her iPod song list to find something that fits her mood, something to set her up for the day. She's helping decorate the loft and it'll be the first time the four of them have done anything as a family and she is _terrified_.

Before she can start to succumb to the waves of panic the door is opening, Alexis struggling through, having to battle with a load of laundry. Kate stands up to help, holds the door open for the girl and gets a smile of thanks she wasn't expecting.

"Hey Alexis."

"Hey Kate. I had no idea laundry would be such a pain in the ass." Alexis laughs, runs a hand through her hair to keep it back from her face and heaves the bag out of the way so she can close the door.

Kate smiles too, takes the bag so Castle's daughter can take her coat off, her shoes. "Yeah, well, at least you're near. I had no choice but to do it on campus when I was at Stanford."

"Yeah, I guess so." Alexis hangs her coat in the closet, takes her clothes from Kate and disappears into the laundry room. Kate follows, feels useless just waiting in the living room for Alexis to come back.

She leans a hip against the door frame, trying not to smother the girl. Alexis seems okay, though, grinning at Kate over her shoulder as she loads her clothes into the machine. "Dad still sacked out?"

"Yeah. I thought he'd be up early today ready to decorate but apparently not." She shakes her head, the end of her braid bouncing on her shoulder.

Alexis raises an eyebrow, purses her lips in a half-smile, half-leer. "You must have worn him out."

And even though she's blushing, even though his daughter is most definitely laughing at her, it's so good to hear Alexis be okay with it.

"Do you think I should wake him?"

"Hmm?" Alexis closes the door of the washer, turns to lean against it. "Yeah. He's been known to take hours to choose a tree, and then we always have to get new lights and decorations and then we have to put everything up and get everything out of the attic and-"

"Whoa. Okay. I'll go get him up right now." Kate turns to go, startled to find Alexis' hand at her shoulder.

She turns back to face the girl, really not even a girl anymore, her brows furrowed. "Hey Kate? I'm glad it's you."

* * *

He's so excited.

So, so excited.

This has always been his favourite part, choosing the tree that will become an honorary member of his family over the next month. Watching his daughter running ahead, her knitted hat barely managing to stay on. His mother tutting and sidestepping around the array of lost branches scattered over the path.

And this year, Kate Beckett is here. Kate Beckett is holding his hand.

He turns to look at her again, delighted to find her laughing at him. She arches onto the balls of her feet to tip herself into him, get her mouth against his.

He has to keep it light because they're still trying to walk and he's half looking out for their tree, the right tree, but he hopes she can taste how badly he wants her.

"Dad!" His kid calls, beckoning to the three of them with one hand while the other wraps around one of the trees, starts to tug it upright. "Dad, I totally found her."

He takes the tree from her, rotates it so he can get a good view of every angle. "Pumpkin, how can you be sure you've found her? We've hardly seen any yet."

"We don't have to look at every single one before we decide. Look at her. She's beautiful, but not too perfect." His daughter is _mooning _over the tree, her eyes so wide and delighted.

"She's a little threadbare right here." He runs a hand carefully over a patch where the branches are a little sparse.

Did Alexis just-

She _did_. His kid totally just rolled her eyes at him. "I know. I like it. It gives her character. Means she has a story to tell. Right, Gram? Kate?"

His mother shrugs, waves a nonchalant hand. She never seems to really mind what their tree looks like as long as it's there. Kate, though-

Kate is caressing the tree with her gaze, scanning every inch, that quietly introspective set to her jaw that means she's really considering something.

"I think you're right, Alexis. Don't we all have our threadbare patches?"

And, well. There's no arguing with that. Looks like they're getting this tree.

"Okay fine. You wanna go find Al, Pumpkin?"

"Sure, Dad. Stay here, okay. Don't let anyone else take her."

"Like I'd do that." He nudges at his daughter, watches her trying not to run as she goes to find the old guy who owns the lot. Al knows them, has been the one to bag up their tree every year since Alexis was two.

Rick remembers all too well having to hold tight to his baby girl's hand so he didn't lose her in a throng of pine needles, how Al took special care to explain to her exactly how the trees are cut and bagged, how to take care of them.

He comes up to them now, scratches at the coarse stubble like snow across his cheeks. "Good to see you Rick, Martha."

Al gives Castle a meaningful look, nods his head at Kate, and Rick flounders for a moment. "Oh, Al, this is my, uh- this is Kate."

"Nice to meet you." Kate grins, extends her free hand to shake Al's, her other still clasped firmly in Castle's. He's not letting go for anything.

Al takes the tree from Castle, turns her on the spot to inspect her. "You picked already? Not like you."

"Yeah well Alexis has her heart set on this one."

Kate pokes his ribcage, rolling her eyes at him. "Come on Castle, it's not like you haven't fallen in love with her already."

"Okay okay, I kinda like her too." He grins, wants to kiss Kate so very badly. He won't do that, though. Not now. Not in front of his mother and his kid and a relative stranger.

Al hoists the tree up onto his shoulder, doesn't even have to ask Castle to get the other end of her after so many years. They take her over to the bagging machine, Kate getting tugged along after him because he's still got her hand, Alexis and his mother a little ways behind whispering about something.

Al feeds their tree through the machine easily and she comes out all trussed up in a soft mesh covering that will hold her in shape until they get her back to the apartment.

He pays Al, slips him a generous tip as discreetly as he can manage, and then they get to leave with their tree. They get to take her home.

* * *

"Dad, you know you're not getting it in the elevator right?" Alexis nudges him with her elbow, smirking again.

He swats at the pompom on top of her hat, scowls at her. "I am aware, thank you daughter. I'll take her up the stairs. Meet you up there."

His mother is already getting on the elevator, tugging Alexis on behind her, but Kate's faltering, her body so warm next to his. "I'll help. See you two up there."

"Kate." He can't help breathing her name against her cheek, despite the fact that he has nothing else to give her, no way to explain how much it means. Her being here. She turns a smile up to him, kisses him gently, and then she's taking the tail end of the tree from him, hoisting it up under one arm.

He gets his end of the tree secure, heads towards the stairwell. It's a battle to get the damn thing up there, even though he knows it's going to be worth it, but having Kate there to help makes it all so much easier.

He's out of breath when they make it up to his floor and she lets go of her end, jogging ahead just so she can turn back and laugh at him. "That too much for you, Castle?"

"Shut up."

He props the tree against the wall, chases after her down the corridor. He gets an arm around her waist to tug her back against him, her startled laughter making her the breathless one. "Thank you for helping me."

"Not a problem." She grins against his jaw, teeth catching at the soft skin where his beard doesn't grow for just a moment, and then he's going back for the tree, Kate hot at his back ready to help him.

The loft door is open for them, his mother and daughter just inside. Alexis has the tree stand already out of the attic, is halfway through putting it together.

He rests the tree against the wall just inside the door, closes it behind Kate. "Okay. Everybody good to start putting her up now?"

His mother is already moving away to pour herself a glass of something. She doesn't like helping with this part, will join in later to add decorations and lights, help put out all the other ornaments and things they have.

"Sure, Dad. Sooner she's up, sooner we can do everything else." He's always so grateful for his daughter's enthusiasm, but especially today. Especially with Kate here. There's just no way for her to feel uncomfortable with his vivacious little girl around.

* * *

"Here, Kate, I'll go on the stairs and you go down there and we toss back and forth." Alexis is already running up the stairs before Kate even has a chance to answer.

She catches the ball of lights that the girl tosses through the railing to her, throws it back up through the next gap. In her peripheral vision, Castle is setting out a little toy village on the end table, adjusting everything just so.

He's left the wreath that goes on his front door until last; apparently it's a tradition for it to be the last thing, for Alexis to put it up. Kate still hasn't seen the mistletoe since she found it unpacking a box a few hours ago. She has a sneaking suspicion he's got it secreted away in his bedroom, maybe even hung up in the doorway.

The loft looks wonderful. None of the lights are on yet, but already she can tell it will be awe-inspiring.

Alexis finishes up with the staircase, plugs the socket into an outlet that Kate has never even noticed before. It's interesting, seeing all the little tricks the two of them have to make things work, watching how they do things. She doesn't really have that anymore, rarely even has Christmas off work.

She always offers to cover extra shifts around Christmas time; let people who have families take the time off. Only now, Kate has a family too.

Castle crowds her from behind, catching her in a bear hug. He extends an arm to his kid, snags her too, the three of them knocked together awkwardly. Kate shifts, tries to get her elbow out of Alexis' ribcage and winds up with her hand somewhere _very_ opportune. She squeezes just a little, feels Castle's shocked exhale wash out over her cheek.

He steps back, shoots her a look over the top of his daughter's head that has need coiling tight in her stomach, her breath sticking in her chest for just a moment.

"Okay, Alexis, wreath time?"

Alexis shifts awkwardly, takes the wreath from her father but doesn't move to put it up, instead clutching it to her chest. "I was thinking maybe Kate could do it? Her first Christmas with us and all?"

Castle glances at her with something like trepidation, and really, there's no need for that. She's here, she's in this, she wants to share their traditions. "I'd like that. Thank you."

The two of them, Castle and his daughter, watch her go, Castle's arm around Alexis' shoulders. She hangs it, turns back to them with a smile. "That good?"

Castle comes for her, loops a hand low around her waist to pin her hips against his, mouth heavy and insistent. He gets clumsy sometimes, kisses her with no direction, no pretence, just naked want. When he pulls back his face is wide open, so much light there.

"Perfect."

* * *

When the night creeps in outside, ink washing through the streets in a tsunami tide that leaves lit windows scattered like debris, Castle closes the blinds.

He doesn't do that often, likes to see what's happening in the city, but today he submerges the loft in darkness. He assembles the three of them - Martha, Alexis and Kate - on the couch so they can watch him flick the switch to illuminate the tree.

All of them gasp, wide eyes and open mouths reflected three times over. "Wow, Dad, best year yet."

His mother nods her agreement, but he's too busy watching Kate to really notice. She's got a hand pressed to her mouth, her body just a little too still.

"Kate?"

His mother is getting up, dragging Alexis off the couch and into the kitchen with her, and he could not be more grateful. He goes to sit next to his girlfriend, brush an errant curl back from her cheek. "You okay?"

"It's so beautiful. I just-"

She cuts herself off, shaking her head, but before he can do anything to help make it easier she's already coming through it, meeting his eyes again. "I haven't had this since before my mom died. Thank you."

"Oh Kate. Kate. I love you."

* * *

_**Kilig:**_

(n.) the rush of inexplicable joy one feels after experiencing something romantic


	9. Yuanfen

**December 9: Yuanfen**

* * *

"Say it again."

She sighs, rolling her eyes at him, and he doesn't even care, because-

"I love you."

She _loves_ him. And sure, he knows. He's known. But it's still so wonderful to hear.

He gets an arm around her waist to tug her against him, the curve of his body forcing hers to curl up too, the two of them concentric arcs in his bed. He nuzzles at the nape of her neck, brushes the thick mass of her hair aside so he can kiss her. The skin over her top vertebra is like paper; he likes to see how hard he has to press before he can feel the bone.

She wraps both hands around his arm, already whimpering. He's been teasing her for hours, ever since he woke her up with the brush of his thumb over her cheek. It won't take much to make her come apart now.

"Did you get your word yesterday?"

"Hmm?" When his teeth catch at her earlobe she drives her hips back against his, her nails biting his palm. "Yeah. Before you woke up. Didn't get my gift though."

"Yes you did."

She turns to face him, nose brushing his, and when she kisses him she's smiling so wide that their teeth knock together. "I did?"

"Uh huh. Remember that very first ornament I gave to you to hang up?" He runs the pad of his thumb over her frown lines, eases away her confusion. This morning, this month, with mistletoe secreted away in the drawer of his nightstand, he wants only for her to be happy.

She slips a knee between his, the heat of their bare skins next to each other so very delicious. "The carousel horse?"

"Yeah. That one's new. It's for you." He slides his palm down from the small of her back, circumnavigating her thigh.

Her eyelids are fluttering, her hand on his chest curling into a fist. "Oh. The Scott Dunn case?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to remind you of your apartment getting blown up." He brushes the hair away from her neck where it's sweat-damp and curling. "Or of Agent Shaw."

"Why not? I liked her."

"Eventually. Have you forgotten how jealous you were?" He brings his hand up, mapping the whole of her side until he reaches her ribcage and then spreading out, his little finger just grazing her hipbone, thumb brushing the underside of her breast.

She swats at his chest, flicking him hard at the sensitive flesh just underneath his ribs. "I was _not_ jealous."

"It's okay. I know you were. But for the record, there was never any reason for you to be." He kisses her response away, easing her onto her back and nudging her legs apart with his own. "You were all I wanted even then. Only reason I didn't do _this_ was because you weren't ready."

She arches her neck, catches his bottom lip between her teeth, a growl all in her chest that he feels where they're pressed together. "Stop talking."

* * *

"Morning Kate, Richard." His mother smirks at them from around a forkful of something, a bowl in front of her at the counter.

Alexis is facing away from them, bent over the coffee machine, but she turns at her grandmother's words, smiling so wide at the two of them. "Hey Dad, Kate."

"Morning ladies," Castle grins, pressing an errant kiss to Kate's temple before he goes to assist his daughter. "This thing playing up again?"

Kate joins Martha at the counter, hands folded between her knees. His mother leans in, mouth just glancing across Kate's ear. "You two disappeared rather fast last night, dear."

"Oh, I'm so sorry Martha."

The older woman shakes her head, overly-large earrings rattling about her ears. "No need to be sorry. I'm happy for you both. And thank you for keeping it down."

She feels all the blood rushing to her cheeks at that, ducks her head.

"Mother, are you terrorising Detective Beckett?" Castle folds his arms and leans against the counter, frowning at his mother.

She raises her hands in mock-innocence, her eyes shining. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Alexis joins them with four mugs of coffee and Kate tries not to accept hers too gratefully, taking an eager sip and scalding the roof of her mouth. "Oh, Kate. Gram and I were wondering yesterday if you wanted to decorate your apartment as well? I mean, when you go back there we thought it'd be nice for you to have a small tree or something."

"Alexis," Castle nudges his daughter, shaking his head. "She's not going back."

"Castle don't be ridiculous, last time I checked I haven't moved in. That would be… wonderful, actually." Kate takes another sip of coffee, suddenly feeling naked under all of their gazes.

He rounds the counter to sit next to her, his hand falling to rest on her thigh. "Okay then. Only, not today. We have dinner reservations."

"We do?" She shoots him a surprised glance, a smile quirking half her mouth. "All of us?"

"No, just you and me. You two are out, right?"

His mother waves a hand at him, apparently absorbed in the script she has resting next to her coffee, pen in hand and the lid between her teeth. Alexis shrugs, sips her drink. "Yeah. I was gonna head back to my dorm tonight, so sure, I'm out."

"Where are we going?" Kate turns a just a little in her seat so her knees can graze his thigh, hopes it will get him to spill.

"It's a secret."

She sighs at him, glances at his family for help but Alexis is bent over the counter discussing a stage direction with her grandmother, neither of them paying much attention. "Is it today's gift?"

"Yeah." He drains the last of his coffee, waits for her to do the same before he takes her mug and gets up to put them both in the dishwasher. "But the reservation isn't until eight, so I guess we could do your apartment if we get going now."

* * *

She's trying so hard not to tremble.

It's just-

It's gutting her, having his entire family converge on her apartment, a space that has been only Kate's for so long. Even when Castle has spent the night and been so at home, it's still been hers. And now the Castles are lugging boxes of decorations, overflow from their own apartment, through to her kitchen, Rick cradling a three foot tree against his chest like it's a child.

She stands in her living room watching them stacking boxes, a hand pressed to her mouth. Castle notices, of course, puts the tree down on her counter to come for her, his arms so tight around her back that it knocks her bones together, creates more space for her lungs to work with.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want."

She shakes her head, lower lip caught between her teeth so it blanches. She can feel the blood draining right out of it. "It's okay. I want to."

"Just the invasion of your space, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna have to get used to it sometime, Castle." She steps back from him, gives him a half-smile that never quite reaches her eyes.

He lets her go, following her through to the kitchen. She kneels next to Alexis, helps the girl sort through the boxes from Castle's loft. She only wants some décor for her tree, maybe a couple of other things.

Alexis keeps handing her things, tree ornaments and baubles, while Castle is next to her unwinding a string of lights and rooting around for another tree stand. The two of them dragging her along like a riptide so she doesn't have a spare second to crumble under the ache of an absent mother.

She stays on the floor, the bones of her ankles cracking against the hardwood when she moves to watch them.

"Hey Kate, where are we putting the tree?" Alexis pokes her head out from behind it, strands of her hair caught up around the branches like tinsel.

Kate shifts onto her knees, scanning her living room for the best place. "How about we move that lamp and the tree can go on that end table right there?"

Castle's already lifting the lamp, standing awkwardly with it while his daughter puts the tree down. "Where do you want this now?"

"Oh, uh, in the closet I guess."

He brushes past her on the way to the closet, his free hand resting briefly at her crown like she's a touchstone, and then she finds she can stand up.

* * *

"Oh Kate. Wow. You look-" he shakes his head, has to take a moment to try and find a word to describe her, unsurprised when he comes up empty. "Breath taking."

She still flushes even now, her cheeks temptingly stained. He leans in to dust his mouth over her cheekbone, catching a lungful of her perfume where she must have splashed it behind her ear. She runs a hand down his tie when he steps back, takes the bunch of flowers he offers. "You're not so bad yourself. I still can't believe you went home to change though."

He grins, so very delighted with her. "Are these okay? I didn't want to be so cliché but I can't help myself."

"Castle, come on." She's laughing at him, eyes like liquid lust and lined with charcoal. "Don't be awkward. We're coming up on seven months together."

"I know, I just- first date, Kate." He shrugs, the shoulders of his suit jacket riding up around his ears. "I want this to be special."

She cups his cheek in her palm, thumb stroking back and forth underneath his eye. "It will be special. Of course it will. Just relax."

* * *

He's allowed to settle his palm at her spine when they get inside, his thumb sweeping over the expanse of her back left bare by the dress. She shivers, turning to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes dragging over his mouth.

He nudges her forwards, wonders if she's worked out what's going on yet, but she's already smiling, the full and wide and beautiful one with all her teeth, so he thinks she knows.

She must know.

And then Madison is coming over to them, all blond hair and genuine smile. She embraces Kate, shakes the hand Castle offers. "Hey. You ready to eat?"

"God yes. Tell me you still do the pumpkin gnocchi?"

Both women laugh at him, Kate's hand curling around his upper arm. He would never expect that of her, isn't with her for her arm candy potential, but it's so wonderful to feel the soft weight of her at his side and revel in the solidarity.

"We do actually. Come on; let me show you to your table."

Maddie has them seated in a secluded little corner of the restaurant, their table set beautifully with candles and flowers. He gets to pull Kate's chair out for her, immediately sliding his own feet between hers when he sits down himself.

Kate sighs at him even as she stretches a hand across the table to trace patterns over his wrist, follow the map of his veins. Maddie grins at them, nods her head at their joined hands. "Guess you are hot for Castle after all, huh Becks?"

"Aren't you supposed to be taking our order?" Kate glares, sliding her menu from the holder and pointedly not looking at Madison.

Castle's gaze flicks between his girlfriend and her friend, still so fascinated by their dynamic. "_No_. I'm the _owner._ I'll go find your server."

Maddie disappears and he takes his chance, laces his fingers with Kate's. "Hey. Thank you for being okay with my kid helping decorate your apartment. It means a lot that you include her."

"Castle, she's your _daughter_. And she's a really great kid."

He can't help beaming at her for that, his thumb running over her knuckles. "She thinks you're great too."

* * *

In the cab on the way back to his place he keeps nuzzling at her, his mouth hot and insistent at her neck, her jaw. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. Thank you." She turns her head to kiss him properly, smiling through his soft exhale of surprise.

When he pulls back his brow is furrowed, hand still heavy over her ribs. "Do you ever feel like people are meant to be together? Like even if you hadn't arrested me at that book party we would have met someplace else? I can't imagine my life without you in it."

"Is this about today's word?"

"Yeah. But even so."

"Does it really matter?" She rests her head against his shoulder, the whole day suddenly rushing up to meet her, knocking the breath right out of her chest.

"I guess not. I just like the idea that you're the one I was always meant to be with."

* * *

_**Yuanfen:**_

(n.) a relationship by fate or destiny; the binding force between two people


	10. Dormiveglia

**December 10: Dormiveglia**

* * *

Kate wakes to the jarring peal of her cell phone, death swelling in the quiet spaces between the notes. Her hand is a dead thing disconnected from the rest of her arm; it takes her a couple of tries to get her fingers around the stupid thing.

"Beckett."

She has long ago perfected the art of sounding like she's been awake for hours even with closed eyes and a sleep-dry mouth.

She listens to the tinny rattle of dispatch on the end of the line, makes a note of the address on the pad of sticky notes she keeps on the nightstand.

She didn't buy those herself. Castle picked up on some of the things she has around her own apartment to make life easier and bought duplicates. Just another one of the ways he tries to keep her here.

When dispatch hangs up on her she groans, rolling onto her stomach and burying her face against the pillow, needing just a moment to wake up properly. Eventually, she can sit up, the strap of her tank sliding off of one shoulder. She hooks it back on, runs her fingertips gently over the forehead of the still sleeping man beside her.

There's no need to wake him yet. The fastest way to get him up, she's found, is to disappear. It's like his subconscious is acutely aware of her, the hum of his sleep changing pitch without her there. Sometimes she gets to watch him from the doorway as he sits straight up; chest heaving like he's just broken through a surface of water but it's just her. Just her absence that does that to him.

When she comes back from her shower, hair damp and curling around her temples, he's still sacked out on his stomach, face screwed up. She sits on the bed by his hip, cards a hand through his hair and around to trace the shell of his ear.

"Castle. Come on. Time to get up."

He rolls, his body wrapping around her arm so she gets tugged half on top of him, torso twisted and ribs crunching uncomfortably together.

"No." He grunts it and she smirks, watches him flailing around until he latches on to her, tugging her tighter against him. Even through his sleep-addled brain he's responding to her bare skin, fingers stroking over her stomach.

Her muscles contract and she gasps, pushing off of his chest to sit up. "Come on. Get up."

He gets an eye open and squints up at her, hair mussed by static and hanging down over his forehead. "You're naked."

"I just showered."

He reaches out again, grabs her thigh and uses it as leverage to reel her into him. She goes willingly this time, resting her head on his pillow so their noses brush. "You awake? There's a body."

He smiles, tips his chin so he can search for her mouth in the darkness of five am in December. He misses, hits the corner of her lips and she laughs softly.

"What time is it?"

She sighs, brings a hand up to cup his neck, thumb stroking at the hard ridge of bone behind his ear. "Five."

He groans again at that, wraps his arm around her back and pulls her hard against him, their skins deliciously flush. "How about you go to the scene and I'll come to the precinct later?"

Even as he says it he's sitting up, running his hands through his hair. He hasn't missed a crime scene since the summer.

Yes, because almost every time she's received the call she's been in his bed, or he in hers, but she knows he's proud regardless. As if he has to prove that he is committed to this, to them.

He slides out of bed, toes curling as they hit the numbing coldness of his hardwood. She watches him open the drawer of his dresser, pull on boxers and turn back to her. When he sees her looking his eyes flood with dark lust and he growls, stalks over to her and pulls her out of the bed. "If you want to get there anytime soon you're going to need to not look at me like that."

She smirks, rakes her teeth over the stubble scattered across his jaw. "You need to shave. And shower. Come on."

She steers him into the bathroom with a hand at his elbow, nudging him into the shower as she goes for her toothbrush. She can feel him watching her as she runs the head of her brush under the tap, squeezes on toothpaste. Probably something to do with the lines of moonlight coming in through the gaps in the blinds and marking her bare skin.

She shoots him a look over her shoulder and he grins, shaking his head at her even as he turns the shower on.

* * *

Now that everyone knows, he gets to love her.

He's allowed to lift the crime scene tape for her to duck under. He gets to rest his hand at the small of her back when they're leaning over a body. When she's done with her gloves he can take them from her, find a trashcan. He's allowed to put his hand near her in the car; on a good day he can even snake his way over to her thigh and rest there.

The body is in Central Park, near the lake. Oh, actually, as they get nearer he can see that it has been _in_ the lake, is now beached on the bank, Lanie crouched next to it.

Kate flutters her fingers for a second, easing herself free from his grip. The morning has a little too much bitterness to it, cold biting down to his bones, and he's snagged her hand for protection. She'd sighed when he'd tucked their connected hands into his pocket but let him have it, let him keep her.

He grins at Lanie, jogs a little to go and give her the travel cup he got specially.

"Tea for you, Doctor Parish."

Lanie rolls her eyes but accepts the cup, flicks three fingers at him in thanks. Kate snaps on gloves, hands him a pair as well, and he busies himself tugging them over lifeless fingers while Kate crouches next to the ME. "Hey Lanie, what've we got."

He joins his partner next to their victim, studying her. She's young, maybe twenty at most. Thin, too, her bones stark even under the bloated weight of her skin. Her body is laced with bruises, her dark hair matted.

Lanie rest her index finger at the inside of the girl's elbow. "Needle marks. Both arms. They're old, though. I'd say maybe two weeks." She pushes the lank mess of the victim's hair aside with her pen, points out a similar puncture wound on her neck. "I'm guessing someone gave her a drug and then tossed her in the lake, but I can't know for sure until I can run a tox screen."

"Thank you, that's great." Kate stands and Castle watches her a moment, caught up in the graceful sweep of her calves, the stretch of her thigh until it disappears underneath her coat.

When he moves to stand Lanie's hand falls to his knee, has him faltering. He glances over at her, tongue heavy with questions, but Lanie beats him to it. "She okay? With this whole calendar thing you have going on? You haven't scared her off yet?"

"She seems fine, but she hasn't had her actual gift yet, so we'll see. She's happy, though." He smiles, squeezes Lanie's hand for a moment.

She smacks his knee, laughs when he whimpers. "Okay, Writer Boy, you better go or she won't stay that way."

* * *

The boys find Kate as she's walking away from the body, Ryan huffing into clasped hands while Esposito scowls at him. "Hey guys, we get an ID yet?"

Esposito holds out a wallet for Kate and she takes it, leafing through the contents. There's a driver's license, cash and credit card still there. "Not a robbery. Victim is Erin McKenna, nineteen."

She glances around the crime scene, eyes sharp. Her body is already humming with the thrill of the mystery, heart kicking against her ribcage. There's something about the whole process that makes her blood sing, even now when they have almost nothing. "We got anything else?"

She holds her breath, waits for one of them to crack a joke about what _she's_ getting, but it never comes. Her boys have been surprisingly lax with the teasing and she still can't figure out if it's because they're plotting something or because they're doing their utmost to keep it a secret from the captain.

She glances behind her, smiling despite herself at Castle almost jogging towards them, his chest heaving even under his coat. He stops so close to her that her entire body sharpens with awareness, his breath washing over her cheek.

The boys move away, LT waving them over, and Kate turns to Castle, wraps her still gloved fingers around his wrist and squeezes. "You okay?"

He startles just a little, his eyes meeting hers. She tilts her head and he finds a smile for her, the creases at the corners of his eyes knocking the breath right out of her. "Yeah, just- she was so young. Same age as Alexis."

She slides her hand up his arm, gets her fingers caught in the sleeve of his coat. "I know. We'll get him."

* * *

"Castle, is uh-"

He watches her shaking her head at herself and he reaches out to her, hooking a hand in her pocket to tug her against him. He cradles her cheek in his palm, tucks an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

She turns her face in to him, kisses his palm. "Is today's gift based on what happened with Demming that summer?"

"Yeah, but it's not today's, per se." The elevator doors open on them and he drops his hand, steps out after her and trails her all the way to her desk.

She lets him take her coat and he shrugs out of his own, goes to put both of them away. When he comes back she's already booting up her computer, chin resting on steepled fingers while she waits for it to warm up.

She flicks a glance from his face to the break room and back, her head nodding to the side.

He laughs. "Coffee?"

"Please."

He scrapes a bow, earns himself a smile for that even if it _is_ twinned with an eye roll. He watches her the whole time he's making their coffee, the blinds on the break room window slicing her into strips so he gets forehead and nose and chin but no eyes, no mouth.

He loves the soft hum of gratitude that slips out of her when he hands her the cup, wrapping her fingers around it himself. "Hamptons, Kate. Let me give you a key?"

"For my gift?"

"For your gift." There's a pause where he feels himself start to lose her, their case drawing her in, so he settles a hand on her knee, his thumb digging at the soft flesh of her thigh. "You know, that whole summer I missed you. I hated thinking of you back here with Demming. I hated thinking of you at all a lot of the time because it hurt so much but I couldn't stop myself."

"Castle-" She cuts hard eyes to him, a sharp shake of her head that he knows means _shut up_ but he can't, now. He can't.

"I wrote so much that never made it into the book, that summer. I wrote great poems about how I needed and missed and wanted you." He huffs a laugh at himself, the memory. If only he could have known back then that in two years she'd be his. "Never about how I loved you, even though I already did. I still had my eyes closed to that."

His eyes are closing _now_ because even though it's done, even though they can't go back, it is still killing him to watch her face as she remembers.

"It was like limbo." She's tentative, her voice so very soft. "That whole summer. Like I was just waiting for you to come back and I couldn't wake up and move on." Kate's hand folds into his, their fingers lacing for a moment. "But I don't regret it. We needed that time to realise how much we would miss each other if you never came back. How can I regret anything that happened when it led us here?"

* * *

_**Dormiveglia:**_

(n.) the space that stretches between sleeping and waking


	11. Crepuscular

**December 11: Crepuscular**

* * *

"We getting anywhere?"

She glances up at him and he shoots for a smile, must succeed if the languid slide of her own mouth into a curve is any indication. Kate shrugs, runs a hand through her hair and then brings it around to rest three fingers at her chin, the skin between her brows creased.

"The boys have just managed to get a hold of Erin's parents; they're on their way in." She glances to him again, exhaustion pooling beneath her eyes.

He settles in his chair, hands her a cup of coffee. Her second already today, and he can see the hum building up just underneath her skin. If he gets enough caffeine in her she'll tug him straight to bed when they get home tonight, demanding release.

Of course, he doesn't often have to ploy her with coffee in order for that to happen. She wants him just as much as he wants her, both of them having to battle it back all day.

The cup goes back to her desk empty and he laughs, shaking his head at her. "You should have sent me sooner if you needed it that badly."

Her teeth cut in to her lower lip, her eyes never leaving the murder board even as she shrugs. "I didn't want to send you away."

"Oh." Wow. "Okay. More?"

"Not yet." She stands, and he watches the arc of her spine, the dormant strength of her thighs so evident even through her pants. "Maybe when Lanie gets back to us with the toxicology report we can trace the drug to a specific dealer? Find out who bought it."

"Sure. Sounds good."

She turns to him with a smile, folds her arms on the desk and leans forward. "I need to get this thing solved before the weekend."

"What's happening at the weekend?"

Her eyes are like liquid when they meet his and it turns his knees to water too. "I'm going up to my dad's cabin. He usually spends the whole month out there. He can't, uh-"

A curtain of hair falls forward to hide her from him when she ducks her head and he burns to brush it back, smooth his thumb over her cheekbone.

He watches the lift and fall of her throat as she swallows, the muscle in her jaw that flickers with the tension. "He can't handle it without Mom."

"He spends Christmas alone?"

Kate shrugs and he can't stop himself from reaching out, circling his thumb over the back of her hand and nudging his fingers inside the sleeve of her shirt sleeve to cradle her wrist. "He has a friend, a widower too, who makes it out there for the day itself most years, so they can keep each other company, but yeah. He's mostly by himself, which is why I try to get out there for a weekend."

"Do you want me to go with you?" He needs to get up, draw her into a hug, because there's a fissure forming down her sternum and he wants to help hold her together. Instead, he takes his hand back, folds them both in his lap, trying so hard not to touch her.

"It's not exactly _fun_, Castle. Just a lot of walking in the woods and reading and stuff. All very quiet."

"I can be quiet." She scoffs and he shifts in his chair, affronted. "I _can_. I'll be whatever you need me to be."

She comes around to lean against the edge of her desk, ostensibly to study the murder board but her hand flutters next to her thigh until he catches it in his own, lacing their fingers for just a moment.

"I'll ask my dad, but you should stay in the city. Spend some time with your kid."

"She doesn't break for Christmas until the 18th. Just let me know what your dad says and we'll work something out."

* * *

She lets Esposito talk to their victim's parents, already on her way to see Lanie when the boys get back with the haggard couple. She sees the clutch of the wife's fingers in the husband's, sees how grief threads through every line on both their faces, and it must show on _her_ face because in the elevator Castle's hand nudges against hers, their knuckles tangling in an inverted handhold.

"You think it was either of them?"

He's watching her, the line of his profile in her peripheral vision made softer by the dimmed lighting in the elevator. She shrugs, chews at a hangnail on her free hand. "Can't really tell just yet."

"But they look so-" He trails off, can't find words to put to the parent's faces. She understands. Even for a mystery writer, there's so much written in the crumbling civilisations of their mouths that is unspeakable.

"Could be grief. Could be guilt."

She knows he hates her cynicism sometimes, hates that she can't afford to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. It's in his nature to be open and trusting, and that terrifies her. It's too easy to get hurt that way.

They are both quiet in the car on the way to the morgue and she can't help wondering whether he's trying to prove to her that he can do it, that he can be what she needs this weekend. She has to stop for a traffic light and she takes a second to slide her hand over to his thigh and smooth over the material of his pants.

"Kate?"

She hums, has to turn back and face the road again, the rest of the traffic sweeping her car along so she doesn't even really have to try.

"Today's gift is quite light-hearted. Fun. If you want I could reshuffle them, give you something more fitting. Or we could skip today altogether."

She chances a look at him, the rock face of his jaw set tight. "No. Light is good. I need the cheering up, Castle. I'll come home with you."

* * *

He disappears into his office the moment they get through the door and then he's back, watching her tug her boots off, slip out of her coat. He hands her a folded piece of paper, kisses her for a moment, just long enough that she starts to arch into him and then he's pulling away.

"Here's your clue. See you later." He nudges her over to the couch and then he goes off upstairs. She's not paying any attention to him, already caught in the web of his mystery.

Kate sinks onto the couch cross-legged, the paper in both hands. She knows what she's supposed to do, remembers from the case two years ago. He's disappeared off somewhere and for a fleeting moment she wonders whether he has cast himself in the role of treasure, whether she will solve to find X and find him instead.

She pushes the edges of the paper together slowly, tries to see if there's any place it creases naturally, some hint as to how she's supposed to fold it. She finds it quite easily, smoothing her thumb over the raised edge of the letters.

_Your favorite thing._

Her feet take her to his coffee maker almost without her consent, and she laughs when she finds her second clue tucked inside the pot. Ridiculous man.

It takes her a little longer to find the words on this one; she rests her hip against the counter and frowns down at the paper. When she gets it she laughs in delight and then clamps her mouth shut, startled at herself.

_Guilty pleasure._

In his study she finds the shelf with his DVD collection, her clue tucked between her box sets of _Nebula-9 _and _Temptation Lane_. He has yet to make good on his promise of a _Nebula-9 _marathon with her.

She brought _Temptation Lane _over to his place after a particularly rough case, when she wanted to curl up in his bed with her favorite show and pillow her head on his chest. Both of them have stayed here. She told him it's because his television is better than hers, but really, she just doesn't want to watch either show without him. Not anymore.

She sits in his chair to solve the next one, spinning back and forth just a little. She can hear him coming down the stairs but she tries not to look, doesn't want to ruin whatever it is he's doing.

_Your favorite thing of mine._

It takes her a while to work out what on earth that could possibly be, but then it clicks and she grins, goes through to his closet.

She finds the clue tucked in the breast pocket of his navy button up. She's never even told him how hot it makes her when he wears this shirt, but clearly he's noticed how her eyes get stuck on his biceps before they meet his own.

And oh, how blue this shirt makes them.

She crawls into his bed, curling up on top of the covers with the clue. She just-

She needs to take a second to breathe through everything, let the cloak of his gift settle around her. It means so much. Everything, all of it, she can't fathom what she ever did to deserve him.

He comes to her before she can solve the final clue. Must have seen her curled form as defeat when really she's just trying to cherish him.

He climbs in and mirrors her, his knees bumping against hers. His fingers are hot on her cheek when he brushes her hair back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just soaking it in. Everything you're doing."

"Okay. That's the last clue anyway." He covers her hands in his own, guides her into the correct fold of the paper. "See?"

_My favorite thing._

She laughs, shaking her head at him. "It's under my pillow isn't it?"

"Yeah. But not- not sex, Kate." She arches an eyebrow at him and he huffs, his hand spanning her waist to tug her against him. "Being with you. Falling asleep to the sound of your breathing. Waking up with you, even at three am, it's so much more than I ever hoped."

She snakes a hand up underneath her pillow, comes back with a bag of chocolate coins. She can't stop her grin at that. "You shooting for another sweaty hug?"

* * *

She curls into the armchair across from him and he glances up from his laptop screen, meaning only to smile at her. Her face, though, is a carefully constructed mask, and already he can see her edges unravelling.

He waits, moves his laptop to the couch cushion next to him, tries to look open.

"I did love him." She brings her feet up, rests her chin on the apex of her knees, the sleeves of her sweater tugged down so her fingers can curl against her palms and keep them in place. "Royce, I mean. I loved him."

She looks so very young that he could weep.

"I know. I could tell."

She watches him, her eyelashes drifting like shadows. "I thought so." She pauses a moment, sucks in a breath. "We slept together."

It shouldn't hurt, but it's like she's poured gasoline on the embers of jealousy that reside low in his stomach and now the fire roars up and into his throat, chokes him. "Oh."

"It was the day I got promoted to homicide. I went over to his apartment and cried on his shoulder because I was so scared of letting my mom down. And he held me and stroked my hair and when I got it together enough to catch my breath I kissed him."

He grits his teeth against the urge to go to her, closes his eyes so he doesn't have to watch. "Kate-"

"It wasn't even- he didn't want to sleep with me." She picks at a loose thread on the cuff of her sweater, tugging at it until it starts to unravel. "I was in love with him but he didn't love me back. So when I tried to make love to him he wouldn't let me. He fucked me against the wall, and it was still the best I'd ever had because I had never cared about anyone the way I cared about him."

"Oh God, Kate, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It was what I needed. To get it out of my system. I knew it never would have worked between us, but that didn't stop me wanting him." She meets his eyes again, manages a smile for him.

He gets up, falling to his knees in front of her. She rests a hand at his crown, cards her fingers through his hair. "I was so naïve. I thought for the longest time I would never love someone like I did him, that no one would understand me the way he did. But here you are."

"Kate-" he drops his head to the couch cushion, forehead meeting the top of her thigh.

"I still miss him so much." She's trembling, tremors that wrack her whole frame and leach into him.

He manages to get a hand up to wrap around her ankle, his thumb circling the bone. "I am so sorry. For everything."

"I know. It's okay. The thing with Royce, that wasn't healthy. That's not what love should be like. This is it, Castle. This is exactly right."

* * *

_**Crepuscular:**_

(adj.) primarily active in twilight hours; at dawn and dusk


	12. Latibule

_This one's for Maddie, my one in five billion._

* * *

**December 12: Latibule**

* * *

He's curled around his pillow when she comes back from her shower, his face all scrunched up. She kneels down next to the bed and cups his cheek, brushes her mouth to his cheekbone.

He squints an eye open at her, grunting something, and her face softens into a smile, her upper body listing into the bed. "Hey, Rick, wake up. Just for a second."

"No." He turns his face into his pillow, tugs a hand from underneath his body to bat at her. She catches it, a flailing useless thing at the end of his arm, and she cradles it between both of hers.

He groans, but he's turning back, peeling an eye open again for her. "I have to go into the precinct. Esposito texted, says he has something. You can stay here."

"Mm, kay. See you later."

"Yeah," she breathes, kisses the bridge of his nose, the skin under his eye like gossamer. "Meet you for lunch?"

"Kay. Love you, Scully."

* * *

"Hey Espo, what'd you have?"

Esposito looks up at her from his desk, his wry grin making her take a step back. "Hey Beckett. Where's your boyfriend?"

"Esposito." She narrows her eyes at him, folds her arms and tries to look like his comments don't get to her.

He laughs, but he drops it, standing to join her at the murder board. "Well, Ryan and I found payslips in our vic's apartment from a _Veni Vidi Veni_. Our vic worked there."

"And where exactly is _there_?"

"Strip club," Ryan shoots from across the bullpen, waving his notepad at her.

"Boom." Esposito finishes, grinning. "It's Latin. It means-"

"_I Came, I Saw, I Came,_ I know." She rolls her eyes at them, writing the club's name up on the murder board. "Did you get a hold of them?"

Ryan comes up next to her, hands her his notebook. "I did a little research, got an address. Espo and I were just about to head down there when you got here."

"Great, I'll join you then."

"Where's Castle?"

She can't even get mad at Ryan because he looks genuinely concerned and she knows how much he cares about her, about them both. "He has some book stuff to do this morning but he's coming in this afternoon."

"Right. Can't wait to see his face when he finds out he missed this." Ryan grins, catches the car keys when Esposito throws them to him, and then the three of them are heading to the elevator, Kate bracketed by her boys.

The ride over is too quiet, has her shifting uncomfortably in her seat to try and dispel some of the stagnant air.

She misses him.

Even if she is glad for his absence when they get to the club. The owner is all red mouth and parasitic smile, hair like spun sugar falling over her shoulders, and the boys are both staring at her with slack jaws.

"I need to ask you some questions about Erin McKenna, I believe she worked here?"

The woman's eyes never stray from Esposito when she answers, her voice pitched just a little too high to be convincingly natural. "Oh yes, Erin. Sweet girl. Such a shame, what happened to her."

"Can you think of any enemies she might have made?" Kate taps her pen against her notebook, tries to focus through the burning irritation.

"No, not at all. She got along just fine with the other girls. There _was _a guy though, picked her up sometimes. Boyfriend, maybe?" She grins at Esposito, shifts her weight so her upper arm just glances across his.

Kate sighs, has to battle not to click her fingers in the woman's face. "Okay, do you have a name?"

"I think she called him Auren?"

"That's great. Thank you. Guys?" She jabs Esposito with her pen and he finally looks at her, his other hand coming up to rub at where's she's hurt him. "Come on."

* * *

She's writing their victim's boyfriend up on the murder board when Castle arrives, stepping off the elevator smelling like Chinese.

"Ooh Beckett, progress?"

He settles next to her, leaning against the edge of her desk, and her stomach calls out for food. "Yeah. Erin was dating an Auren Stuckett, the boys have gone to pick him up."

"How'd you find him?"

She turns to him, takes the bag of food and starts rooting through it. "The boys and I headed to where Erin worked and her boss told us there was a guy, so we came back and went through her phone records until we found him. Got his address from there."

"Where did she work?" Castle finds her carton of lo mein, passes it to her with a not-s-subtle brush of his fingers over hers.

She takes a mouthful, her eyes closing so she can savor it. And so she doesn't have to see his reaction to what she has to tell him. "Strip club. Veni Vidi Veni."

"Ohhh, good name. And I missed it? Damn."

"It wasn't that exciting."

There's a clamor from the elevator and she turns, watches the boys manhandling Stuckett into the bullpen. Ryan breaks away and heads towards her as Esposito shoves Auren into an interrogation room.

"He tried to run away when we knocked. And we found vials of a drug in his apartment that we've sent over to Lanie. We're pretty confident it's the same drug found in Erin's system."

Castle grins, stands up and tugs Kate up too. "Gotcha, you son of a bitch."

* * *

He crowds her on the couch, ostensibly to share her blanket but it's not even that cold in the loft. He just wants to be near her. And she seems okay with it, which he had never before expected.

"Easy solve, huh?" She grins at him.

He shrugs, can't help the slow stretch of his own mouth to echo hers. "Kinda disappointing, actually? The jealous boyfriend did it? Lame."

"Yeah well, at least we got the guy."

He hums his agreement, chases her mouth. He takes and then she takes and it's so good. Always so good.

When he pulls back, Kate's still cradling her bowl of ice cream to her chest, his own long ago discarded on the coffee table, and he swoops in with his spoon, steals a mouthful of hers. She frowns at him, that lick of mountainous skin between her brows so very appealing, but she doesn't say anything.

He closes his eyes, lips closing too around the spoon. He hums, feels the tremor in his fingertips where he's wrapped around the handle. She's staring at his mouth when he lowers his hand and he leers at her, wriggling so he can get half underneath her.

"I still can't believe we got abducted by aliens, and it was what? Two years ago?"

She snorts, shaking her head at him and squirming to get comfortable in his lap all at once. "We didn't get abducted by _aliens_; we got abducted by the CIA."

"Yeah, but that's so not cool." He flops back on the couch dramatically, can't help the laughter that bubbles up out of him when Kate falls against the slope of his chest.

She huffs at him, pushes herself up from his lap with a hand at his chest. "I never thought I'd see the day you declared the CIA 'not cool'."

"Ooh, speaking of cool, let me go grab your gift."

He jumps up from the couch, his socks making him skid on the hardwood so violently that he smacks into the doorframe of his study. He can hear Kate laughing at him and he grins, made buoyant by her delight.

When he comes back to her he's got the gift behind his back and he makes his eyebrows dance at her, flops down onto the couch.

He hands her the gift with a theatrical flourish his mother would be proud of, watching her face carefully. She unties the bow from around the folded material very slowly, messing with him. And then she's unfolding it, the pants first.

They're a deep blue, like the night sky when it's free from the leach of the city lights into it, little alien figures all over them. She snorts, drops the pants back to her knees so she can get a look at the shirt.

"'_My boyfriend is out of this world_'? Are you kidding me?" She drops the shirt to look at him, her mouth quirking with amusement even as she frowns at him. "There is no way I'm wearing that."

He crowds her on the couch, chases her mouth until she opens for him. Their smiles clash, teeth knocking together, and she hums against him. He lets her go, laughs harder at the little disgruntled noise that comes straight from the back of her throat. "You are so wearing it."

"No way."

"Oh come on Beckett. Best. Pajamas. Ever."

She rolls her eyes at him, eases herself down until she's lying on the couch and he has no choice but to squeeze between her body and the back cushion. "Can we get back to the show now?"

"Fiiine. You know, it was fun to get a taste of what Mulder's life was like but I don't think I could do it all the time."

"You know he's a fictional character, right?"

He pouts at her; gathers her up in his arms and tugs the blanket flush around them both, delights at how their bodies align. "I know. But you know what I mean. That constant fear that I was in danger, that _you_ were in danger. I couldn't do that."

"Yeah, I know. But it's okay. We're okay." She cups his cheek, uses the leverage to draw him in to her and kiss him, a soft and fleeting thing, and then she's rolling over to look at the television screen again, his chin on top of her head.

He waits until the worst of the battle against the aliens is over for Mulder and Scully, and then he kisses the hard edge of bone behind Kate's ear, rakes his teeth over her lobe for just a moment. "Hey Kate?"

"Hmm, what?"

She's drowsy, then, a lazy evening on the couch making all her awareness leak away until she's a half-asleep shadow of a thing in his arms. And that's good, right now, that's the only way he'll get an answer.

"What did Agent Westfield say to you? You never told me."

"And I'm not going to. Classified, Castle."

She rolls to face him, her nose just hitting his throat. Her hand comes up between them, three fingers at his jaw and smoothing over his stubble.

"Why not? Don't you trust me?"

"No, you know I do. Come on, Castle. You _know_ that." Kate slides a leg between his, her stomach brushing against him. She still has the power to take him apart just with the kiss of their skins.

"Then why can't I know?"

"Because what he told me is never going to be as exciting as whatever you've come up with. I don't want to ruin what your imagination has settled on. If it was important, if it mattered, I would tell you. But it doesn't. Okay?"

He kisses her for that, for cherishing his imagination, for loving every part of him. "Yeah. Okay. So it's okay for me to believe that he told you that those were, in fact, hickeys, and not from the injectors?"

"Sure, if that makes you happy. If you want to believe that you can't remember our first kiss." She smirks at him, arches her neck to draw another kiss from him.

"Oh no. Whoa. No. I remember that, for sure. Nope. I guess I'll have to settle on the Loch Ness Monster theory, then."

"Yep, that's it. He told me that the Loch Ness Monster is real." She scoffs at him, kicking her feet to untangle them from the pajamas that are somehow still at the end of the couch.

"You gonna put those on?"

He braces himself for a sigh, another eye roll, but instead she's sitting up, already tugging off her pants. She unbuttons her shirt very carefully, holding eye contact with him the whole time, and then she's tugging the pajama pants on, the shirt. She curls her fingers in the sleeves and stretches her arms out so he can see the words, grins at him. "Happy?"

"Best. Girlfriend. Ever."

"Damn right." She comes back to him, crawling underneath the blanket so that when she appears at the other side her hair is humming with static and floating around her head.

"You'd hide with me, right? If aliens invaded?" He slides his hands underneath her shirt, unhooks her bra, feathers his fingers across the skin of her back.

Sometimes she falls asleep on her stomach and her spine is like a mountain range blanketed in a fresh snowfall.

"Is that what today's word was referring to?" She slides her hand inside the opposite sleeve and tugs her bra strap down, repeats the motion on the other side so it falls off, and then she tosses it at his face.

He unhooks the strap where it's somehow hanging from his ear, throws the garment down to the other end of the couch. "Oh you saw it already? You know, you really gotta stop opening them without me."

"But you're always so sleepy in the mornings and I don't want to wait." She pouts at him and he closes his teeth around her lip, soothes over the raw patches with his tongue, wanting so much.

"Okay. No more waiting. I think we've both had enough of that."

"Yeah. Now hush, alien boy, this next episode is my favorite."

* * *

_**Latibule:**_

(n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort


	13. Cafuné

**December 13: Cafuné**

* * *

"Did you ask your dad if I can come to the cabin?"

He tries to keep his voice light, not let his desperate need to be with her flood into it. He really-

Yeah. He doesn't want to drown her.

"Yeah." She brings her hand up, curls a fist at her cheek so most of her face is hidden from him, the slope of her nose angled away.

He lets her have it, doesn't knock her arm away or tip her chin up towards him like he wants to. "And?"

"He said it's okay." She shrugs, turns back to look at him, the nail of her little finger caught between her teeth.

"Okay, good. I'll go pa-"

"Castle. I really don't think it's a good idea." She gets up from the couch, her whole body dripping with goodbye, and no. _No_. he's not letting her go this easily.

"Let me come with you."

She falters, her back still to him but her body's movement frozen. "Please, Kate. Let me come. Your dad is great; I'd like to see him. And the thought of the two of you there, alone and missing her-"

He chokes on his own words, has to rub his hands over his face to hold himself together. She's still not looking at him, but she's trembling now, her hands in fists at her thighs. "Castle, I know how much you love the holidays. I don't want you to have to be somber. I want you to enjoy it."

"No. God, Kate_ no_." He staggers to his feet, clings to her upper arms to make her look at him. "No. Don't do that. I want to be with you for whatever you need. And if you need to cry a little because you miss your mom, I want to be there for that too."

"I don't want to ruin your holidays." Her eyes shutter closed, and he hates that she still has that defence mechanism, that sometimes she'll still hide.

It's not that he_ likes_ seeing her vulnerable, but, well-

He sort of likes getting to see her let herself be vulnerable in front of him. It's startling and beautiful and he's so very grateful for her lashes like shadows on her cheeks, the bite of her teeth against her lip.

"However much it may hurt me to see you sad, it will hurt a hundred times more to be here thinking of you but not able to do anything to help. _Please_, Kate."

Her eyes open to meet his, her mouth liquid at the corners, and then her head is bowing so her temple hits his shoulder, his arms coming up around her to hold her against him.

"Oh Castle. Okay. You can come."

* * *

He makes her get into bed with him, and she's not an idiot, she knows it's a ploy to have her stay the night, but she goes.

Even though she still has to pack, and tomorrow will be hell at work trying to finish everything up before the weekend, she gets in bed with him and she lets him hold her. She even sits in the vee of his legs, leans back against his chest and tries to breathe, let the tension leak out of her.

"I want to show you something."

She turns to look at him, kisses his jaw, her teeth raking over the scattering of stubble that blurs the hard edge of bone. "Okay."

"Remember when I saw those pictures of you ice skating with your mom?"

"Yeah." She does. She remembers the too-sweet taste of panic at the back of her throat, how uncomfortable it made her to have him see her like that. And then the relief when he didn't tease her, when he looked at her like it was a privilege to know these parts of her.

"I loved you so much right then. So very much." He's trembling behind her, his hands so tight around her ribs she thinks their bones just might knit together. "I want to show you pictures from my past."

She laughs at that, pinches his thigh. "So I'll love you?"

"No. So you can see who I used to be, the same way I got to see you."

Oh. Wow. She actually-

Yeah. She wants that. She wants to see Little Castle.

"Okay. How long ago are we talking?"

He grins, reaching into the nightstand for a stack of photographs, secured away in an envelope. Her whole body is humming with excitement, the promise of getting to know Castle when he was Richard Rogers making her spine straight.

Rick smirks at her, hands her the top picture from the stack.

"Oh. Oh, Castle, look at you." Kate touches a fingertip to the face of the little boy in the picture, his smile spilling across his face, eyes alight and looking right at the camera. "Wow. When was this?"

It's the same. He's younger, the clothes a decade behind the fashion in her version of this, but it's the same bench. He's tugging on his skates with one leg stretched out just like she did. Just like her mother captured.

"Christmas 1980. I was eleven, and mother deemed me finally old enough to brave Rockefeller."

She laughs, quirks an eyebrow at him. "1980? That was my first Christmas."

"Shush. Don't make me feel old." He pouts at her, tugs the photo out of her grip.

"You _are_ old. Older than me, anyway."

But even as she says it, she's sliding a hand up his thigh, leaning in to press her mouth to the side of his neck, open and scalding.

He huffs, nips at the top of her ear where the shell eases into a curve, humming against her so she shivers. "Do I need to show you how I'm not old? Not even a little bit."

"No. Show me more pictures. Are there any of your mom?"

He grins, shuffles the two of them around so they're back how they started, Kate between his legs. Not-

Hmm. Well. Soon.

First this. "Is that her? Wow. She was gorgeous, Castle."

"Where do you think I get it from?" He smirks, his eyes on her. She doesn't look at him though, too caught up in his past, these things he was doing while she was just a baby.

"Is she a good skater?"

"It's hard to tell with Mother." He shakes his head in exasperation, but there's a heavy dose of affection there that makes Kate's knees soft even sitting down. "When she's not good at something she does it anyway, with such flamboyant self confidence that you hardly notice how terrible she is."

"Sounds like Martha." Kate smiles, kisses his cheek for that. However much he complains, however many jokes he may make about her overstaying her welcome, Castle loves his mother.

And Kate?

Well, Kate loves him.

* * *

"Is that- holy crap. Kate, it's snowing. _Snow_." He releases a lungful of air on a sigh, has to bring a hand up to wipe at the windowpane so he can see again.

It's so gorgeous. He loves when it first snows, before people go outside and ruin it, when the whole city is blanketed and peaceful and unblemished.

She's laughing at him but her hands are sliding around his waist, her knees digging into the backs of his thighs as she arches onto tiptoe to get her chin at his shoulder.

"Yeah. Snow. Pretty."

"Can we go make a snowman?"

She huffs at him, comes around to stand at his side, one hand still at his waist. "There's nowhere near enough for that."

"Damn."

"My dad sent me a text telling me to drive slow because there's tons of snow at the cabin. We can make one there if you want."

"Really?" He breathes, his voice swollen with awe and so much love for her that he can taste it.

She shrugs, that pressed-mouth smile scrunching her face up again. "Sure. There's not much else to do. No internet, no TV. I tend to just read, if that will suffice."

"Are you asking me if books will hold my attention? Kate, I'm a _writer_."

"No, you're a procrastinator." She smirks at him, so much affection in her gaze. "What are you going to do?"

"You."

She takes a step back, frowning at him. "My _dad_ will be there. Jeez, Rick."

"Oh._ Ew_. Snowman it is then." He shudders, his shoulder blades rattling, and the strange complaint of his bones (he's not _old_) is worth the laughter that bubbles out of Kate.

"Thought so. You're going to behave in front of my dad, right?"

He laughs, catches her up in his arms and hopes the weight of his body against hers can help. "Of course. Have to stay on his good side."

For later.

For the second most important question he'll ever ask.

* * *

_**Cafuné:**_

(n.) running your fingers through the hair of someone you love


	14. B'shert

**December 14: B'shert**

* * *

"Hi Dad." Kate wraps her arms around her father and sucks in a lungful of his scent, taking just a moment to go back, imagine she's six years old again.

When she steps back her father's eyes are creased at the corners, the sharp cut of his jaw and the hard edge of his cheekbone so familiar even under the crumpled covering of his skin.

"Hi Katie. Rick."

Castle extends a hand to her father and they shake, the fingers of Rick's other hand twining with her own. She knows how nervous he is, how desperately he wants her father to like him. How he wants to prove that he's worthy.

Her dad grins, peers around the two of them and glances down the drive. "Your mother not here, Rick?"

Castle flounders, glancing to her for help, and she laughs, shoves at her father's arm. "Jeez, Dad, could you not remind us of that disaster."

"Oh Katie, I'm just teasing. Your mother is an enigma, Rick. And a truly delightful one at that."

Castle manages a wan smile and then her father is ushering them both inside, locking the door behind them. There's no need, out here, with the nearest town a good ten miles away, but it's a habit her father had gotten into that summer.

She'd needed it, then. The extra security measure. Back when she was being eaten alive by paranoia, when she would pick up the phone to call Castle and have a panic attack instead.

Now, though, it's good. She's good.

"Let me show you to your room and you can put your bags away." Her father leads Castle around to the right, past the kitchen and straight through to-

"Dad? Dad, this is your room."

Her dad smirks at her, nudges the door open with his hip and takes her duffel from her, drops it on the bed.

"I know. I thought you two would want the double. I'll be fine in your single bed, Katie."

"_Dad_."

He takes Castle's bag too, drops it next to hers. "What? You trying to tell me you _don't_ share a bed?"

"Mr Beckett, I-" Castle's cheeks are wind-bitten, but she can almost feel the heat rolling off of them.

"Jim is fine."

"Jim. I really don't want to inconvenience you. I'd be happy to sleep on the couch."

"How tall are you Rick? Over six feet, I'm guessing. There's no way you're fitting on my couch." Jim ushers them both out of the room, laughing again when Kate stumbles into Castle. He catches her with an arm heavy around her waist, his mouth glancing over her cheekbone.

She turns in to him, kisses him softly. She needs her father to see this, see how happy Castle is making her.

When she pulls back her father is smiling at them from the kitchen, and when he sees her looking he shakes his head. "_Don't want the double bed _my ass."

"Shut up." She scowls at him, snagging Rick's hand to tug him into the kitchen after her.

"Did you two get dinner yet?" Her father is half inside the refrigerator, rummaging around for something, and she takes the private moment to squeeze Castle's hand, try and let some of her certainty leak into him.

"Not yet, no. We came here straight from the precinct."

Her dad turns, then, throws a bag of salad at her. She catches it with one hand, rolls her eyes at him. "I made dinner. Just pasta sauce, if that's okay?"

"Smells great, Dad. Is this a hint for me to wash the salad?" She shakes the bag at him, has to let Castle go so she can open it.

"If you would. Rick, you're a guest, eat at the counter or the table?" At the sink, her back is to her father and Castle, so she doesn't see whatever face her partner makes, only hears her father's soft noise of sympathy.

"Relax, Son. I'm not going to hurt you."

I know. It's just-" She hears Castle cutting himself off, imagines the frustration he wears so uncomfortably. It doesn't fit the lines of his face, makes him a caricature of himself.

"I understand. You know, Johanna's dad scared the crap out of me. I was so desperate to prove myself worthy of her."

She turns back to see her father with Rick's hand clasped in both of his, smiles when they turn in unison to look at her.

"You two okay?"

"We're just fine, Katie-Bug. You want to set the table?"

She finds placemats and cutlery in the same drawers they've lived in since she was six, hip-checks Castle on her way to the table.

He shadows her, crowding her from behind when she goes back for glasses. "Katie-Bug, huh? Cute."

"What was it your mother used to say? You were a wriggler?"

She groans, smacks at her father with a dishtowel. "Yeah, when she was pregnant with me." She turns back to Castle, finds him looking at her with so much adoration that her bones turn to water and gush over the tiles. "She said I would never keep still, like a squirmy little insect in there, so they just called me Bug until I was born, and then they tacked on the Katie part."

"I like it. Detective Katie-Bug."

She narrows her eyes, stalking towards him with three glasses cradled against her chest. "Don't get any ideas. If you ever mention this to anyone at the precinct, or anyone at all for that matter, you will be the one getting closely acquainted with bugs. Am I clear?"

He swallows, takes a step back that has him coming up against the counter. "Yeah. Okay. Kate it is."

"Okay you two, sit. Dinner is served."

* * *

When she sighs again, when she rolls away from him and crosses her arms, her spine like armor set against him, he gives up.

"Kate?" He steps out of bed, tugs open the curtains to let the moonlight lick across the bed and bathe her, turn her into this ethereal and glorious creature. "Kate, love?"

She sits up in the bed, the sheets around her made liquid by the silvery light. "I can't sleep."

"I noticed." He climbs back into bed and gathers her up in his arms, tries the best he can to arrange the jut of her angles against his soft places and cradle her.

She's trembling. He imagines the thrum of it echoing in the caverns between her bones, how her cells weep. "This is the first time I've been back since that summer. And it's not even the same bed and I'm healthy and you're here but I-"

And then she's crying and the hot slide of tears down her face, their suicide leap from the precipice of her jaw, all of it unmakes him. "I know. But you're okay. No one's coming for you. You're safe and I'm here and nothing's going to hurt you."

"I know that." She curls a hand into his shirt, the fabric bunched up in her fist, and he rocks her, kisses her hair again and again. "I don't know why I'm crying, Castle."

"It's okay. It's a catharsis, right? Just let it go. I'm right here." He gets the hand at her back underneath her shirt to smooth over her skin, a pilgrimage over the mountain range of her spine.

Kate cries herself out eventually and he eases them both down until they're curled together, the sheet glossing over their aching places. She's facing him, her forehead at his chin, nose brushing his throat.

"I'm sorry."

She breathes it against him, her toes curling and releasing and curling at his shin, her body so soft.

"Don't be sorry. It's okay."

He nudges ever closer, settles a hand at her chest, her heart right there beneath his skin and hers. It helps, to feel her life steady in her chest. How he needed it that summer, how very much it broke him not to have her.

"But this is a vacation, Castle, and I'm ruining it." She stutters a shaky breath, arches her neck so her inhale is a drink straight from his own mouth.

When he kisses her, he tastes salt at the back of her throat.

"No you're not. I love you. All of you. Even the broken parts. I want you to share these things with me, Kate."

"But it doesn't even make sense. Why would I be upset? Everything's so good, my dad seems really happy and you are so wonderful and there's no reason for me to be hurting." He can feel her frustration in the grit of her body, the tight and careful way she holds herself.

"Have you heard of cell memory? Maybe it's that. Even though you're happy, your cells can remember what it was like that summer and it's going to take them a little time to adjust."

He kneads the rope of her muscle along her back, up across her shoulders, feels the flood of release pouring out of her even before she sighs.

"Hey Kate? I brought your notecard. Will that- do they help?"

"Oh. Yes. Please."

He has all of them for the weekend secreted away in the drawer of the nightstand so he doesn't even have to leave the bed to get it, hardly has to turn away from her at all. She takes the card from him, angles it so the moonlight washes right over it, his handwriting a spidery scrawl.

"It's Yiddish."

"It's beautiful." He loves the subtle nuances of her voice, the way the upward curve of her mouth shapes the words, malleable things bending around the mould of her teeth.

"Yeah? That's you and me, Kate. Complementary." The notecard gets caught up between their bodies when she kisses him, a corner of it catching a nerve at his ribcage and shooting fire down to his fingertips so he can paint it on her with the brush of his hands.

She hums, puts just enough space between them that her teeth knock his lip when she speaks. "You brought my words. What about my gifts?"

"And here I thought they'd make you uncomfortable. You're getting spoiled, Kate Beckett."

"Shut up," she hisses, a momentary duel of clashing elbows and ribs and then she's got him pinned to the mattress, her weight hot and right and settled on his waist. "I like them, Castle. I'm not ashamed of that."

"Good, because you don't wear shame well. Far, far too gorgeous."

He arches his neck and she hesitates for just a moment, laughing at him, before her mouth meets his, like liquid heat pouring down his throat and pooling low in his stomach. She tries to pretend like she's the one in control but when he gets his hands on bare skin she groans, hips shifting over him.

He stills, grins when she keens all in her throat and sits up to look at him. "I brought them. You want today's?"

"Right now?"

"Sure. Then we can get back to this."

She's already shifting off of him, slipping out of bed and pulling on a sweater because even with central heating the cabin at night is pretty damn cold, he's learning fast. He snags her hand, tugs her all the way to the front door before she protests.

"Outside?"

"They're in the car. Actually, you wait here. No spoilers for tomorrow."

She huffs, sitting down on the side table to wait him out. He gets halfway through the door before he's turning back to her, anxiety shifting in his guts. "Kate? There aren't, like… wolves? Right?"

"Oh jeez Castle. Nothing's going to eat you. Just go, would you. And quietly, don't wake my dad."

He walks backwards down the drive, grinning at her the whole way. He even does a little shimmying dance when he reaches the car, shakes his butt just to hear the laughter half-muffled by her fingertips. He rummages in the trunk until he gets it, tugs it free and jogs back up the drive to her.

The thing is huge, a canvas frame that he has to juggle in order to see her. She takes half of it, goes backwards down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door with a grace that should not be capable of someone's_ foot_.

"What is it?"

"A map of the city."

She studies it, three fingers pressed to her mouth. The moonlight saturates the canvas just enough that they can make out the city blocks, the great floating mass of Central Park.

"What do you do with it?"

He gets the box of thumbtacks from his pocket, red and blue and purple all mixed up in there. "You pin places of interest. Special memories, favorite restaurants, whatever. You're red, I'm blue. And if it's somewhere meaningful to both of us then we use a purple one."

"Wow. That's amazing. But which case is this referring to?" She props the great bulky thing against the dresser, runs affectionate fingers across the top of it as she climbs back into bed.

"The dirty bomb."

"Oh. Huh." She bites at her lip, her eyes tracking him as he slides beneath the sheets with her.

He runs his fingers over her ribs, still wearing the night air, and she shudders. It doesn't surprise him anymore. The curve of her body next to his, how she tugs at him until his arm is an anchor at her waist.

"I didn't want to remind you of almost freezing to death or almost blowing up or almost being exposed to dangerous levels of radiation or of how you went home with Josh and you should have come home with me. So I focused on Agent Fallon's map."

* * *

_**B'shert:**_

(n.) lit. "destiny"; referring to the seeking of a person who will complement you and whom you will complement perfectly


	15. Ya'aburnee

**December 15: Ya'aburnee**

* * *

"Kate? Kate!" He smacks the flat of his hand against the wood, angles his mouth at the tiny crack between the doorjamb and the door itself.

He hears the water shutting off, a curse that he really hopes didn't reach her father at the breakfast table and then the door is opening, a slice of Kate's face framed in timber. "What?"

"A deer!" There's a deer. An actual deer. On the patio. And he is SO EXCITED. And yes, his thoughts are coming all in capital letters because he's never, ever seen a deer this close before and it's so beautiful and _Kate_ is so beautiful with her eyelashes a framework for water droplets to cling to like lace and he is EXCITED.

She shakes her head at him and he watches the rope of muscle in her bare shoulder as she reaches behind herself for a towel, knotting it at her chest. The door opens, then, and he gets to travel along the long and lithe road of her forever legs for a moment before she's pushing at his chest to get him moving.

And oh, it doesn't take much. He's already stumbling back through to the breakfast nook, Jim still cradling a cup of coffee at the table, Kate a hot and wet thing at his back. "Look at her. A deer. A deer in the snow."

"I see her. She looks young, huh?"

The doe-eyed beauty outside comes ever closer, the tip of her nose leaving an echo on the sliding door, breath condensing in the bitter mountain air. "Oh wow. Wow."

His hand flails, coming to clutch at the back of a chair. It's just so very amazing. And Kate's here, sharing it with him, and oh, God, he loves this cabin.

Jim clears his throat, stands up to head to the kitchen, very pointedly not looking at his daughter. "Katie, do you want to put some clothes on maybe?"

"Oh God, Dad, sorry. I'll- yeah. Excuse me."

And then she's gone and he's left alone with Jim Beckett. Which wasn't so bad when Kate was in the shower, but now, when he's having a hard time not following her into the bedroom, he can't meet the older man's eyes.

"I, uh- we didn't really think that through. Sorry, Jim." He runs a hand over the alien landscape of his stubble-marred jaw, sinks down to sit cross-legged in front of the deer.

He presses a palm to the glass and the deer nudges her head against it, eyes human and knowing. He can feel every pull and beat and stretch of his heart, his lungs, cacophonous inside his chest.

"Don't worry about it, Son. Oh, and whatever you do, don't let the damn deer inside. One year, I think Katie was fourteen, one got in here and it took us hours to chase it out."

Castle can see it so very clearly, a gangly and awkward Kate, all long-limbs and braces and still youthful skin. How she would have tipped her head skyward to laugh, her father smacking at the deer with a broom and her mother outside, crouched down and calling to the thing, luring it out with food.

He wants so badly to give her that back, cast her in a different role this time.

"Oh jeez. Okay. No opening the door, I got it."

Kate reappears then, her torso drowning in one of Rick's sweaters, cased in jeans that make her legs strong and beautiful as marble. "You telling him about Blue Jay?"

Jim groans, shoving at his daughter so she grins and steps to the other side of Castle, clinging to his head to angle him like a shield. He tugs her down to sit in his lap and Jim follows, the three of them a captive audience to the beautiful creature outside.

"Blue Jay?" Rick punctuates his question with a nudge of his nose at her cheek, presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Kate grins, kicking out at her father from Castle's lap. She hooks a toe in Jim's belt loop and tugs until he half-falls, catching himself with a hand at the linoleum. "The Toronto Blue Jays won the World Series that year, and my girls thought it would be fun to tease me by naming the damn deer after them like it was their mascot."

"You were so grouchy over it, Dad. We just couldn't help ourselves." Kate laughs, brushes a hand over Castle's cheek as she stands, carding her fingers through his hair. "You guys get breakfast?"

"Waiting on you." Castle lets her tug him up and drag him into the kitchen, clutching at the breakfast items she takes from the fridge and pushes against his chest.

Jim watches them a moment and then he's up, nudging Kate aside to get at the oven, flip on the burners. Castle puts his cargo on the counter, leans back against the island to watch the two of them in this graceful, age-old dance.

And then Kate reaches back a hand to him, yanks so hard that he stumbles up against her back, but she just turns a grin over her shoulder to him. Jim hands him a can of beans, Kate opens the cupboard for him to get a pan, the two of them including him in their traditions, the nuances of their family. And it makes his breath stick in his throat.

* * *

The three of them fall into a single file line on the narrow path, and she can't help but match each of her steps to the footprint her father leaves in front of her like she used to do every year at Christmas. Only now, it's not her mother behind her. It's Castle.

Crowding her so close that his hips keep bumping up against her, so close that she can't falter. She made this walk so many times that summer, traced her own path, each day a little stronger. And she'd wanted him then, so badly. Wanted to see how the dappled sunlight would lie across his features, whether she would be able to understand the words trapped in between the layers of leaf tissue a little better if she had him to help.

They get to the little clearing by the stream and she smiles, runs a fond hand over the picnic table her father and a friend from a neighbouring cabin lugged up here one year.

She drops down to sit, her lungs burning. And yes, she knows it's psychosomatic and she can breathe just fine, but it feels like last summer, when just the sluggish beat of her heart was too much. And then Castle is tugging her up again, sighing at her as he brushes the snow away, drapes a blanket over the seat.

"Your pants are wet now, huh?"

She flushes, so very many answers she could give, but none of them she ever wants her father to hear. "Yeah. Oops. Just tired. Needed to sit."

He gestures to the seat with a flourish, stooping into a half-bow. "By all means. Sit."

"You want to eat now?" Her dad hip-checks her on his way around the table, the picnic basket held tight in both hands.

One year, he'd dropped it, and a nine year old Kate had watched in horror as the sandwiches she'd helped her mother prepare had tumbled into the stream, their sodden and breaking shells catching on rocks like an echo of the snow-covered mountain behind them.

"Sure. Yeah. Quickly though. It's cold when you stop moving, huh?" She laughs, watches it condense in front of her.

Castle sits, crowding her, the heat from his side where he's pressed against her so welcome. "Well whose idea was a winter picnic?"

"I thought it would be nice."

"It's more than nice." She holds his gaze, sees the ancient things he keeps safe there, and then she glances up to see her father watching them, sandwich halfway to his mouth.

He smiles at her, takes a bite, and she unwraps her own sandwich. Before she can get it up to her mouth though, Castle's holding his own out to her.

She takes a bite of his sandwich, grinning around the mouthful. "Mm. Yum."

They finish up quickly, Kate trembling with the cold by the time they're done. It's a little too much, today, what with yesterday's gift and all, the reminder of that case. Her father laughs at her when she packs up the picnic bag and slings it over a shoulder, huffing at them both to get moving.

She stomps off down the path, expects Castle to come careening up behind her. When he doesn't, she turns back to glimpse the snag of her father's hand in her partner's coat, how Castle jerks like a marionette.

The branches that arc over her head muffle their words, and that's okay. She'll get it out of Castle later.

* * *

"Katie-Bug, I'm gonna head into town, get some stuff I need for dinner. I'll be back in an hour or so."

She glances up from her book, only then realising the staccato rhythm her socked feet are tapping onto Castle's thigh. Her father is framed in the doorway, the fast-fading winter light flooding in and outlining him, his hair like frost-covered cobwebs.

"Okay. Drive safe."

"Always do."

Jim has to fight to get the door open, the cold making it stick. She gets up to watch her father's car roll down the drive, the fresh tracks marring the day-old ones Castle's car left.

She turns back to face Castle, rubs her hands together and blows on them. "I'm still freezing."

"It's bone-deep, huh?" He shivers, wraps the blanket a little tighter around himself.

She goes over to him, rests on the arm of the couch for a moment. "I'm gonna go take a bath."

"Oh, that sounds amazing. Can I share?"

"Sure."

* * *

He skates his fingers up and over the hill of her shoulder, traverses the mountain range of her collarbone and dips the tips of his fingers just inside to taste the water droplets that pool there. She arches her neck so her head falls against the curve of his shoulder, wet hair half tied back and curling around her ears.

"Better?"

She turns to him, nose brushing his cheek, smile sharp at his jawbone. "Much. You okay? Bit of a squeeze compared to your bathtub, huh?"

"I'm great. You're always squishing me anyway."

"Hey!" she huffs, shifting in his lap, her legs liquid between his. "I'm not heavy."

"No. You're wonderful." He nuzzles at her, draws a pliant and gentle kiss from her mouth and then dissolves it with smile.

She wriggles, and the sudden shaft of sunlight that hits his eyes has him squinting, grasping to manhandle her so she blocks the light. "Jeez. Damn winter sun."

She's laughing at him and it makes her words change shape, become these lovely things that he so wants to taste. "I love this view though."

He gets his hands up to cover her ribs, slip up and down the swell and dive of her bones the way he used to run a stick over the fence in kindergarten. It's the same clattering almost-music alive in his heart now. "I took a bath every morning that summer, only way to relax my muscles enough to start the day. The tree tops are kind of like the city skyline, and I would watch the birds circling, sometimes clouds bleeding across, and I would have the strength to go outside and feel it."

"Oh Kate. Kate. I wish I could have been here."

And sure, he knows that she would have hated him, and he would have gotten frustrated with her when she wouldn't let him in. And yeah, he knows they needed the time apart. _Absence makes the heart grow fonder _and all, but still.

He wishes.

She doesn't look at him, the curving grace of her profile all he gets. "Yeah. But I don't want to rehash it, Castle, okay? It happened, and I wish that it hadn't, but now we're here, and that has to mean something, right?"

"Yes, yeah. It means everything." And then she's turning, kissing him, the water shifting and sloshing to accommodate their forms. "I just missed you, that's all. But, uh, today's gift, Kate?"

"Mm?"

"My silence. No more mentioning how I wish I could have held you. No more anger, no more guilt. It's done with."

Her eyebrow quirks, her mouth a line that he knows will yield more kisses just from the upward set of the corners. "Really, that's the best you got Writer Boy?"

"Well, Esposito already stole my thunder showing you the gun." He grins, catches her earlobe between his teeth and groans when her shudder rips through his whole body.

She gets a hand up to smooth over his cheek, her eyes too tender for all the joking. "Hey. I'm just kidding. I don't need a physical reminder. It's done."

* * *

_**Ya'aburnee:**_

(n.) lit. "you bury me"; the hope that you will die before your love because you cannot live without them


	16. Concinnity

**December 16: Concinnity**

* * *

"Bye Dad." She catches her father's hug, his arms so strong and right at her back. Her nose finds home in the crease of his neck and the scent of her childhood that gets trapped there.

When she steps back her father cups her cheeks a moment, letting go too soon. "You take care of yourself. And let him give you what you need, Katie. I think you're ready for more than you think you are."

She turns to look at Castle, waiting by the car for her to say goodbye, his face so open and loving even half turned away from her. "I will, Dad. I trust him with this more than myself."

"Don't do that either. Don't belittle yourself. The man adores you for a reason, Katie-Bug."

She flushes, hopes she can pass it off as being wind bitten. She goes back in for a last hug, turns to go to the car as soon as her father lets go. This is always the hard part, saying goodbye to him, leaving him up here for the rest of the month by himself.

But when she makes it to the car Castle kisses her cheek, opens the passenger door for her and stoops to kiss her again before he closes it, and it somehow becomes fortification.

She lets him drive, because she wants to watch the scenery floating past like a dreamscape the way she did when she was young. She finds herself uttering goodbyes to the trees and the animals under her breath and she raises a startled hand to her mouth, casts a sidelong glance at Castle.

He looks over at her for just a moment, smiles a bright thing that is somehow so very much in confluence with their surroundings. "Okay?"

"Yeah. It's just never easy to say goodbye to this place. There's so much of Mom here." She kicks out of her shoes, brings her feet up to curl over the edge of the seat, knees knocking into her chin when they hit a pothole.

He nods, takes a hand off of the steering wheel to squeeze her kneecap a moment, stroke his thumb at the crease between thigh and calf. "Would you think I was insane if I told you I could feel her? Especially outside. At the picnic."

"No, not- I- me too." She closes her eyes, has to strike a deal with her lungs so they stop catching on every damn breath. Sometimes still she can't believe how much she loves him.

He lifts his hand to smooth through her hair, starbursts of heat at her knee even in his absence. "I wish I could have known her."

"She would have loved you. She always was the more light-hearted of my parents. Loved to tease my dad."

He takes his hand away, the road suddenly demanding more of his attention. Even so, he's still so very present, so attuned to her. "Your dad's great, though. Really. I've never- I don't have a father figure, Kate. And that's okay; I made my peace with that. But if I were to have a father, I hope it would be someone like him."

She chokes a little at that, swallowing hard to keep all of it lodged safely in her throat. She doesn't want it to spill out all over the road, taint any of the harmony outside the car.

"What did he say to you yesterday? On the way back to the cabin."

"Oh." He startles, gaze flicking to her a moment and then back out the windshield. "He thanked me. He said he hasn't seen you smile so much since before you lost your mom and he thanked me for giving him his daughter back, however much he might not deserve you."

"Oh God." When she cards a hand through her hair she's trembling, and he notices, catching her fingers and tugging her over to rest on his thigh. "He said that? Oh jeez, Dad."

"He seems good. He seems happy, Kate."

"Yeah, while _we_ were there. But now he's by himself. Now what?" She curls up in the seat, her body orienting towards him by instinct now.

"You have to trust that he knows what he needs. I think he's going to be okay."

* * *

"Hey."

He comes through from the bathroom, finds her cross-legged on top of his covers, phone pressed to her ear. She had it turned off all weekend. He can only hope the peace was worth the flood of messages and missed calls she has to catch up on now.

He climbs into bed behind her, folds his body around her back so she leans against him, stretching her legs out. The message finishes and she drops the phone to the bed, groans.

"A lot of messages?"

She twists to look at him over her shoulder, kisses his jaw, his throat. "Yeah. The boys caught a case right after we left on Friday. They've already solved it, but I have a bunch of voicemails with all the details."

"Ryan keeping you up to date?" He laughs, picks up her phone and unlocks it almost on autopilot.

She thinks she can keep him out, changing her code every week, but he knows her so well by now that it never takes him more than a couple tries. He doesn't know why she won't just quit changing it. She doesn't seem to really mind the invasion of privacy, if only because he rarely capitalizes on it.

"No, Javi actually. I think he's trying to prove that the two of them can solve a case without our assistance." She gives him a look, taps at the screen of her phone.

The app he snuck on there springs to life and he shifts uncomfortably, the weight of her against him suddenly crushing. "Oh, that's, uh-"

"Could you just _not_ download your apps onto _my phone_?" She pinches his thigh, high enough that the sharp jolt sends a delicious wave of need through his guts.

He slips a hand under her shirt in retaliation, smoothes his thumb in sweeping arcs up her ribcage and bites back a gasp when he finds bare skin.

"It's not my app, it's _our_ app."

"What does that even mean?" She presses a thumb to the screen of her phone, rolls it up and down so the app homepage scrolls back and forth.

He moves her finger, his whole hand wrapped around it like she's a newborn. "It's called Pair."

"Oh jeez."

"Just give it a chance, okay? It's a little like Facebook, only it's private. Just for the two of us. Let me go and grab my phone." He's already going before she can protest and he wants to laugh. He really does.

Even though she's waiting, he can read her frustration so very easily. But underneath, layers of affection and amusement and yes-

Love. It's been all over her all weekend, enough that her father noticed it, enough that _forest creatures_ were drawn to the door just to get a glimpse of her.

He slots himself back in behind her, jiggling just to make the whole bed shake, just so she has to grip his thighs to stay upright.

"Okay. Pay attention. It has all kinds of things we can do." He calls up the message bar at the bottom, clicks the little plus icon to bring up the different options. "See look. You can send me a photo or a video or a sound bite."

"I can do that anyway with iMessage or whatever." She sighs, but she's bringing up the app again on her own phone, following his lead. "What else?"

"We can draw for each other, and live draw at the same time if we both have the app open." He clicks the icon, starts doodling across the screen. "We can do noughts and crosses."

"Okay, so the same as that other drawing app you made me get."

"Not the same. You don't have to guess. You can just showcase your art." He kisses the slope of her cheek because it's right there and he loves her. "If you click this little thing it creates a map that pinpoints your location and then you can send it to me."

"Why? If I'm not with you, then I'm at the precinct, or at home."

He shrugs, jostling her. He wishes he could see her face for this, but she's warm and soft enough that he won't give her up, won't let her reclaim even an inch of space. "Yeah. I don't really understand the point of that."

"Well, what's so great about this app then?"

"This part."

He taps the mouth icon, waits for Kate to do the same, and then he presses his thumb to the screen. Kate's phone shows a ghostly image of a thumb print in the same place where his thumb is on his own screen.

"Put your thumb over mine." She does, and both of their phones vibrate, screens flashing red. "Thumbkiss. Cute, huh?"

She's laughing at him, but she nods too. "Yeah, that's sweet."

"I thought we could use it at the precinct, under the desk or something. Less obvious than the handshaking."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. But Castle?" He hums, his fingers so slack around his phone that she doesn't even have to fight him in order to confiscate it. "I much prefer real kisses."

Her mouth dances against his, never breaking contact even when she turns to straddle his thighs, her hands clinging to his ears so she can keep her balance. He smiles into their kiss and it makes his teeth knock against hers and that has them both smiling wider so the whole thing falls apart entirely.

"That was cheesy, Kate Beckett."

"Sorry. What else is there?" She skims a hand over the covers, finds her phone half caught underneath his leg and then she's calling up the app again. "What's this?"

She taps the top right corner where there's three horizontal lines, the entire screen shifting to the right to make room for the rest of their options. "Other stuff. Shared tasks." He calls up the list, nothing on there yet, all the empty space so very tempting. "It's like a to-do list that we share. We can tick things off as we do them. Things like 'get milk'."

He snaps his mouth shut, hopes she hasn't noticed how domestic that is, how it's the kind of thing married couples would use.

Only, she's turning lust-heavy eyes to him, sliding a hand up his chest to curl around the back of his neck and bring him in to her. "What if _you_ are my to-do list?"

"Jesus, Kate. What's gotten in to you?"

"Well not you, yet."

He chokes, clutches at her. "_Kate_."

"A whole weekend having to behave in front of my dad, Castle."

He sets her back from him, tries desperately to ignore how his mouth brushes hers when he speaks. "Just let me explain the app, then this? Please?"

"Hurry up."

"I was going to download it for you anyway because I thought it was cute but then I saw the options to draw and I decided it could be today's gift but I am totally down with buying you more ties if you want." He expels his whole explanation on one breath, waits on her to show him what happens next.

She gives him a smile, kisses the jut of his chin. "Art? The Serena Kaye case?"

"Uh huh."

"You liked the tie?"

"God yes. Wanted to tug you towards me with it and kiss you senseless." She leans in to show him what it could have been, help him correct their past mistakes. He has to stop, has to tell her the most important part. "I didn't not go out with her because I couldn't afford it. I didn't go because she said 'I don't steal things that belong to someone else'."

"I'm glad. And she's right. You are all mine."

He'd agree, tell her how very much he wants to be hers, but her hips are rocking against his and he can't tell her anything except her own name.

* * *

His phone buzzes and he groans, smacks a hand around on the top of his nightstand until he can close his fingers around the stupid thing. He unlocks it, the light from the display too much even with his eyes still closed.

He squints one open, sees it's the ridiculous app demanding his attention. And oh-

Wow.

It's the little circular picture of Kate, and then next to it a blue cloud.

_Wow_.

She's been exploring the app of her own accord, maybe couldn't get to sleep. Probably sighing at herself the whole time for humouring him. He laughs, a quiet thing that his still-asleep vocal chords have to work at, and he sends the same thing right back to her.

Because that little cloud? It comes with a message.

_Thinking of you._

* * *

_**Concinnity:**_

(n.) an elegant, harmonious structuring of all the elements of something


	17. Indefatigable

**December 17: Indefatigable**

* * *

"Again."

She groans and falls forwards to lie face down on the bed, a mouthful of pillow making her words come out muffled. "No. God, Castle, no more."

"Why not?" He huffs, nudging the game board aside to drape himself across her back, his arms folded and pillowed against her spine.

She gets a hand back to swat at him, tries to roll over. The swell of her hipbone digs at his ribs until he plants his hands next to her and lifts, makes room for her to turn onto her back. "I'm _tired_." She blinks up at him, eyes wide and pleading and reminiscent of his tiny red-haired girl and _please Daddy, just one more chapter_.

He flops down again, his weight on her stomach pushing all the air up out of her in a huffing sigh. She rests a hand on top of his head, running her fingers through his hair just like she said all those months ago.

"Kaaaate. Pleaaaase."

And yes. Thank you. He hears himself. Whining like a child.

He just really, really loves this game, even though she's beaten him every time and that is entirely distressing. He can get past it because he loves the look on her face, the crow of delight when she dismantles the damn bomb yet again.

"Fine. Masochist."

"I can't help it. You make winning so damn sexy."

She laughs, chin tipping up so the sound swirls around their heads, and then she drags the game board back over between them.

It's like _Operation_, only instead of a human figure, it's set out like a bomb. He's not entirely sure why tweezers are still necessary. Probably another sadistic idea of the game's designer to make the whole thing more difficult.

"You want me to show you how it's done?" Kate smirks at him, hands him the tweezers. Loser goes first, so he gets to start every damn time.

He snaps the tweezers a couple times, starts to work out a very complex and genius rhythm with the clacking sound before Kate smacks at his hand, glaring. "Okay fine."

"Okay, so first you have to disconnect the wires that go from the timer to the detonator." He feels her eyes on him but he is way, way too busy giving the bomb his complete attention to meet her gaze. "This is the hardest part. If you get the green wire, it's going to blow up right away. Red will make the timer go twice as fast."

Oh yeah. Did he mention the ridiculous game is time-sensitive?

"Right. So blue's the man?" He grins, still not looking at her.

She laughs at him, runs two fingers over his wrist in a signal to start. "Blue's your guy, yeah. Do it slowly though, okay?"

He catches his lip between his teeth as if picking up Kate's little quirks for himself will make him better at the stupid game. There's a timer nestled right in the middle of the bomb's guts, flashing away at him, and he grits his teeth, eases the blue wire out as slowly as he can, his body humming with excitement.

"Done." He slots the wire into the little blue circular holder thing that the game provides for all the successfully removed items. "Now what?"

"Well this game is an atomic bomb. So next you need to get the neutron trigger."

He frowns, glances up to see her laughing at him _again_. "The what now?"

"That little ball right there." She hovers just over it, not touching.

If they were playing in collaborative mode it would be her turn now. The setting they've been using, though, has them each taking a turn to dismantle the thing as fast as they can.

It's _hard_. If he touches anything that isn't right the game makes this god-awful noise and then an annoyingly snarky man announces that he's wiped out an entire city, and _really_, he doesn't need it to be spelled out for him.

"That's the radioactive part. Once you get that out the bomb could still detonate, but it's not going to be Hiroshima." Kate folds her arms and shifts back, gives him the space to work.

He holds his breath the whole time, feeling ridiculous and yet entirely unable to stop it. He has to get the tweezers around a ridge on the surface of the little yellow ball and then pluck it from the grasp of the half-sphere it's nestled in.

He does it, sends the ball home and then turns a grin up to Kate, his body flooding with pride.

"I did it! Kate, I totally did it."

She reaches up to card a hand through his hair, kisses the corner of his mouth with a hand at the game's box so the movement of her body doesn't ruin his chance. "Uh huh. Ready for the next step, Sergeant James?"

"_The Hurt Locker_, huh? God you're hot." He kisses her again, a fleeting thing because he's ever mindful of the timer. "Yes. Ready."

"Okay." She sits back from him again, points out the gray cube that takes up half of the bomb's chest cavity. "Now you have to get the explosive. Very, _very _carefully. It can be really unsteady."

There's a sort of handle in the middle of the thing that he takes a couple tries to get the tweezers around. He gets the explosive halfway out, almost drops it but then he's home free, nearly slamming it into its slot.

"Done! Look at me go." He's never gotten this far before and it's only a game and it doesn't mean anything but she's helping him and it's everything.

"Good job. Now you need to separate the uranium masses. In real life they're pretty heavy. I think the game has them magnetised or something to try and stimulate that. Anyway, give it a shot."

"Like this?"

"Yeah. Don't let them touch again. If they get too close to one another, they flood the area with radiation and we die."

He laughs at her shrug, at how very seriously she has announced the possibility of their deaths.

"They go in the little metal box things?"

"Yeah."

He drops them in there one at a time, and when he closes the last lid there's a fanfare, that same smug man back to tell him he's done it, saved everyone and would he like to try again?

"I did it! Oh my God, Kate, I just dismantled a bomb. Wow."

She shakes her head at him, eyes bright with mirth. "Not hard when you know how, huh?"

"No. So if I ever get caught in a hostage situation again I can dismantle the bomb myself."

"Don't even joke about that." Just like that her eyes are flint, her nails sharp against the back of his hand. "And that wasn't even atomic. C4, Castle. You'd be no better off now than you were then."

He sighs, puts the lid back on the game box and moves it to the floor, eases her to lie down with the unyielding press of his body against hers as he crawls up over her. "Yeah, but that's so totally boring. There's no game for that."

"Even so. That's not funny. I was so scared."

He clings to her, yanks her into his body with too much force but he needs to feel her close, sometimes even now needs the reminder that they are both still here, still okay.

And that time has to be the worst near death experience he's ever had. "I was scared too. Not so much of the dying. I've faced that before. I was so torn, because I was so glad you weren't there, that you were safe. But God, Kate, I wanted you there so badly."

"I know. I hated every second of it. I was so helpless." She kisses his chest, her mouth open over his shirt and leaving a damp patch.

He cups the back of her head, cradling her against his chest. He would have given so much (_anything, everything) _in that bank for just a moment to hold her, say goodbye. "Yeah, but it was okay. I knew you'd be indefatigable out there, working to get us all out."

"Today's word, huh?" She shifts against him, her toes tracing a line up and down his ankle, teasing and languid all at once.

"Yeah. Seemed fitting." His shrug jostles her and she huffs a surprised breath of laughter, hand fisting in his shirt to keep herself pillowed on his chest. "You know when you found us after the explosion?"

"Hmm?" He feels her hum in his bones, his heart stalling a moment under the lovely caress of her voice.

"Would you have kissed me? If my mother hadn't interrupted. Would you have kissed me?"

She slips a hand up underneath his shirt, scratches light fingers over his chest as she thinks. "I think so. Yeah. But I- I'm glad? We wouldn't have worked back then. It wouldn't have been this."

"You're right." A kiss to the crown of her head for that, for her honesty, for how protective she is over their whole history. _No room for regret_ she keeps telling him, and he knows it's true. "Doesn't stop me being annoyed at her, though."

She's quiet a moment, not bothering to fight him on this. He knows she was annoyed too, saw it in the grit of her jaw then and sees it again now.

He almost thinks she's fallen asleep, but then she stirs, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

Yeah, so maybe getting her to play a board game with him for a couple hours when she got home from the precinct was not the greatest idea. He's been writing all day though, and as much as he loves Nikki Heat, he loves Kate more.

He wants to play games with her when she gets home from work. He wants to sit cross-legged on the bed opposite her and feign annoyance when she beats him. He wants it all the time.

"You still keeping track of how many times we've saved each other?" He can hear the half-awake smile in her words and it has a smile pouring onto his own face too.

"Yeah, but it's not that accurate." He eases her very slowly off of his chest, revels in the sigh that she breathes out against the pillow as he curls up facing her, his knees against her thighs. His hand falls to her face, cradling and cherishing and loving her so very, very much. "You save me every morning when I get to wake up next to you."

"You're getting sappy on me." She's trying to battle the sleep-heavy drag of her eyelids, her body soaking into the bed, a lazy mass of bone and skin and sinew that saturates his sheets.

"It's_ Christmas_." He brushes the pad of his thumb over her eyelids one at a time, a sudden wave of exhaustion crashing through him and leaving his hand splayed like debris at her cheek.

She shifts her weight a little closer, wriggling to get closer. "Oh right, like I've forgotten? Not much chance of that."

"You love it."

"Yeah. I do."

She's falling asleep against him with all her work clothes still on, two fingers tangled in his belt loop.

They should change. She should maybe even go home, probably has to be at the precinct early tomorrow. But he wants her here, wants to see her tomorrow morning when she groans at how crinkled her dress pants are and she examines the strange lines her shirt will mark her skin with.

She hums, nuzzles her nose against his chest. "Thank you for my gift. It was fun. Maybe someday I'll let you beat me."

"It's not _fair_. I'm a _writer_, my hands are my livelihood. I should be better at this than you." He tugs the sheets out from underneath them and then over, pulling her ever closer under the covers. He'd show her just what his hands can do, only his awareness is threading out of him fast, inertia crawling into his veins to take its place.

"Not gonna happen." She moves up, then, her mouth slack but still trying at his. She has to stop to speak and he's glad for the ever-present brush of her lips to paint the words into his own mouth, wouldn't be able to hear her otherwise. "Your party is Friday, right?"

"Mm. Problem?"

"No. Not at all. Just thinking about what to wear."

"You make a particularly sexy paramedic."

* * *

_**Indefatigable:**_

(adj.) never tiring or stopping


	18. Caim

**December 18: Caim**

* * *

He gets in about an hour after she does, stepping off the elevator with a coffee in each hand and a fine dusting of snow across his shoulders, knotted into his hair so that he looks ethereal, like marble.

He flops into his seat with a sigh, unwinding his scarf to toss it over the back of his chair. She loves his scarves. Can't say why.

Maybe something to do with how they keep his neck so very warm, so that when she buries her nose against him he groans even as he tugs her closer.

Her coffee is delicious when he presses it into her palm and she brings the cup up to hold to her cheek, the heat of the thing flooding into the bones of her face so she melts into a smile. "Mm. Thank you."

"You're welcome. What are you working on?" He takes a sip of his own drink, settling back in his chair and crossing one leg over the opposite knee, already looking like he's been there for hours.

"Just going over old paperwork." She passes him the stack she's already covered for him to leaf through so he can at least _look_ productive. "Gates wants the boys and I to spend the time when we don't have a body going over our cases for the entire year to make sure everything's in order."

"The whole _year_?" He gapes at her over the top of a file, his mouth wide open and so very tempting. "The woman is a maniac."

"Shh." She hisses, smacks at his knee. Honestly. He just has no filter whatsoever sometimes.

He whimpers, rubbing at his wound and pouting at her. And she hates it, but it gets her. It does. "What, like she'll hear me?"

"Mr Castle, what exactly are you doing here?"

He jumps, dropping the stack of papers all over the floor and getting to his feet, the captain somehow managing to tower over Castle despite his height advantage.

"Oh, sorry Sir. I was just, uh- visiting. Bringing Detective Beckett her morning coffee." He glances to her for help and her gaze immediately snaps back to her papers. She doesn't trust herself to look at him when he's like this, so sorry for himself. It's just so endearing and she can feel her face melting into a soft and loving thing that is not at all what a detective should be.

"You already took care of that when you bought the department a coffee machine." Gates' voice is clipped as always, but there's a hint of a smile there.

"Yes, sir." Kate glances up in time to see Castle swallowing, falling back into his chair as if his knees have given out.

The captain shakes her head, starts to move away and then turns back, Castle stiffening immediately under her gaze. "Just be quiet and don't cause a ruckus."

"Yes sir."

She goes, Castle waiting until her office door is closed again before he's gathering up the papers at his feet and lining them up with a tap against the edge of Kate's desk. He sucks in a deep breath, turns eyes that are wide with panic to Kate.

"She hates me."

"No she doesn't. She's letting you stay, isn't she?" She squeezes his fingers for just a moment, smoothes her thumb over the back of his hand so his skin ripples.

Castle's smile is so very soft, his eyes holding hers for just a beat too long. "Yeah. Must be the Christmas spirit. Do you think I should get her a gift?"

"Do you think you can get it right?" She quirks an eyebrow at him, lips pursed.

He frowns at that, steeples his fingers and rests his elbows on the edge of her desk. "Sure I could. Look at how well I've done with you."

"Yeah but that's _me_. You know me better than anyone. What would you even get her?" Kate gives up with her paperwork, drops her pen to the desk and sits back in her chair to watch him.

"Gemini dolls?"

She laughs, Ryan's head snapping up to look at them at the sound. "Maybe better not to remind her of that?"

"Yeah. Speaking of gifts, I have part of yours. You want it?" He's already reaching a hand into his pocket, leaning to one side and lifting so his body becomes one long line that she burns to press herself against and explore thoroughly.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

"Here she is." He tugs the thing out, a little orange face peering up at her, almost disgruntled looking at having been caged in his pocket all day. White around the mouth and black stripes coming down from the forehead.

"A tiger toy?"

He hands it to her and she sits it in the palm of one hand, strokes a finger down the creature's tiny face. "Not just the toy. You're gonna be a mommy, Kate."

She didn't even realise how intently she was gazing at the little furry thing until her head snapped up to meet his, her neck complaining violently now. "What'd you do?"

"You are now a sponsor for a tiger. Her name's Kismet. I have the certificate at home."

All the breath rushes right out of her in a gasp and she takes his hand again, their fingers weaving together, knuckles clashing.

"I'm a tiger mom? Oh wow. Castle."

She can see in every line of his body how badly he wants to get up, go to her, crush her in the envelope of his arms.

"You know, even when that tiger was trying to eat us, a part of me was still amazed at how beautiful they are." He's grinning; stroking a finger down her tiger's back and tugging gently on the tail.

Kate can't help but nod, untangling her hand from his to cradle her little creature. "Oh yeah. For sure. She was gorgeous."

"You know there are only just over three thousand left in the wild?" He's got such a big heart, and she can see it breaking in his eyes, see how desperately he wants to help. She knows if he could he would sponsor every single endangered species there is.

She's had to cheer him up before when they've found a dead dog in an alleyway, a squirrel washed down a storm drain. For a murder mystery novelist, he can be so very sensitive.

"Yeah. It's so awful."

"But there's one that will be kept safe thanks to you." He shakes it off, manages a smile for her.

She smirks at him, raising an eyebrow. "You're the one paying."

"In your name though. And it's with the Nikki Heat money, which I still am convinced I owe you at least half of. I stole words out of your mouth, Kate."

She starts to answer, her mouth opening right as Esposito sidles up to the edge of her desk, casting a pointed glance to her little tiger toy. "What's that, Beckett?"

"A tiger." She gives him a look, all sharp eyes and mouth stitched shut in irritation.

Ryan comes up next to his partner, takes the tiger from Beckett. He turns it upside down to inspect it and she grits her teeth against the urge to rescue her ba-

Gift. Her gift.

"Haven't you two had enough of tigers by now?" Ryan shakes his head in bemusement, hands her the toy back and she clutches it to her chest, the little thing's nose nudging at her scar.

"Dude, just be grateful he didn't get her handcuffs. Ew." Espo shudders violently, his eyes screwed shut, and Castle actually blushes.

Hmm. Maybe there's a little more to her gift than she's received so far.

Ryan groans, smacking at his partner's arm. "Oh, that is nasty."

"Guys, we're right here." She glares again, shoots a pointed glance from them to their empty desks and then back to them.

Ryan swallows, always the easiest mark. "Yeah. Sorry Beckett."

"Uh huh. Not caught a body yet?"

"Not yet."

"Maybe this year New Yorkers are actually embracing the Christmas spirit, rather than it driving them to breaking point?" Castle shrugs, grinning at the three of them in turn.

Esposito scoffs, already moving back over to his own desk. "Sure bro, whatever you want to tell yourself."

* * *

"Hey Kate?"

He watches her coming back through from her bedroom, a t-shirt hanging off of one shoulder; her legs cased in yoga pants that make his mouth go dry.

"What?" She gets a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water and sipping. The stretch and roll of her throat is so very tempting. How he wants to press his mouth to her skin and feel her body working under him.

"I found a documentary."

She laughs, comes back to him to sink into the couch, settling her glass on the floor. "Tigers?"

"Yeah. Look at them."

On the screen in front of them, a tiger is licking at her newborn cub, the little creature mewling like a kitten. "Oh, that's cute."

"We should get a cat."

"What?" She shifts, fiddling at the bottom of his button up. She does that sometimes, touches him just for the sake of it, not even really paying attention to what she's doing.

"A cat. You can get breeds that look just like tigers." He kisses the end of her nose, chuckling quietly when she screws it up, her eyes closing as well.

She's adorable.

"No, not that. The 'we' part." She hesitates, catching her lip between her teeth. "You remember Royal. It won't work, sharing."

Crap. Yeah. He forgets that they don't technically live together, even though they only spend one night apart most weeks. He wants her for always, but he won't risk jeopardising that by asking too soon.

"Yeah. Okay. You're right." He turns back to the documentary, feels her eyes still on him. He probably dropped it a little too easily and now she's suspicious. Damn. "Forget it."

"Maybe someday we could get a cat." She brushes her smile over his cheek, nuzzling.

She's tired, and it makes her clingy, and he loves it. How she pillows herself on him, how she turns drowsy eyes up to him, how very easily she gives her heart over to him when she's too exhausted to hold it for herself.

"Yeah." He shifts so he can get his arms around her, press a kiss to her temple again and again. "Where are you going to keep Kismet?"

"Mm. Next to Monkey Bunky?" She hooks the throw she keeps over the end of her couch with a toe, tugs it up over the two of them.

Later, she'll get too hot, start sighing at him before she kicks her way free of the cover. But for now, he gets to hold her in their own little cocoon.

"Where's Monkey Bunky?"

"In my bed." She's sheepish, hardly able to meet his eyes at all, and it makes him grin.

"Oh really?"

She smiles too, kisses the jut of his chin, the sweeping arc of his cheekbone. "Yeah. I missed you."

"Oh Kate. You don't have to miss me. Just call, or come to me." He cups her cheeks, her curls brushing the backs of his hands. "I want to be with you whenever you'll let me."

She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth and he hears it catch in her throat, her eyes shuttering closed so he can't get anything from her. "_No_, _God_ Castle. This relationship is not just about me. You're allowed to ask things of me. I'm not promising I'll say yes, but I promise to think about it."

"Come for Christmas. Stay, after the party. Just stay."

"No. Not after the party. I'll come Christmas Eve."

He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face, but she must see it because she kisses him like it's her last chance, the slide of her tongue against his soothing him even as his guts churn with misery.

"Hey. Compromise?" She breathes against him and he nods, can't fight with her. "I'll stay until New Year's Day."

And he nods, tells her yes, kisses her again, because if he has his way-

If this goes right-

She's staying for more than just New Years.

* * *

_**Caim:**_

(n.) lit. "sanctuary"; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, that reminds you that you are safe and loved, even in the darkest times


	19. Matutine

**December 19: Matutine**

* * *

"Morning, gorgeous." He grins at her with his chin propped on her pillow, lying on his stomach in her bed with his head at the foot, his toes tapping against the headboard.

She sits, runs a hand through his hair to brush the flopping strands back from his forehead. "Hey handsome."

His grin stretches wider and he rolls onto his back so he can beam up at her, his hand coming up to settle in the curve of her waist. "You make coffee yet?"

"Yes. Got tired of waiting for you." She taps the end of his nose, curls her hand away from him as he tries to snatch at her fingers. "Want some?"

"Oh God, yes. You are such a magnificent creature." He cups the back of her neck and draws her down to him to take a long and invasive drink from her mouth. It's so very strange, his mouth upside-down against hers like-

"Spiderman." He laughs, sits up and narrowly avoids cracking his head against hers. "We get a body?"

She gets up and he follows, shadowing her around the room so close that his thighs brush the backs of hers. She rolls her eyes, turning to face him and stopping him in his tracks with a sharp jab to the chest.

"No body. So get off mine." She narrows her eyes, moves away from him to the bathroom so she can put makeup on.

"Kaaate." He calls from her bedroom, half his face visible in the mirror. "Not fair. You look so good."

She pokes her head around the door, shoots him another look. "It's not even a new shirt. Jeez, Castle. What's wrong with you?"

"You don't need a new shirt to be hot. We established this already. You are sexy in anything." He stalks towards her, his voice suddenly pitched on a growl so it pools low in her stomach.

"Go get your coffee." She closes the door in his face, falls back against it with her eyes closed, chest heaving. She _can't_. If they start now, they won't stop.

There's so much clattering as she finishes up her makeup that her heart pounds when she opens the door, no idea what's going to face her.

Only he's fully dressed, sitting cross-legged on the middle of her bed and it's perfectly made beneath him. "Oh. You cleaned up."

"Yeah. You ready to go?"

"Sure." She takes the hand he stretches out to her, tugs him to his feet.

He takes a moment to hold her against him; his arms slung low around her waist, mouth meeting hers. "More paperwork?"

"Yeah. You don't have to come in." She goes ahead of him, tries to look like it doesn't matter to her either way. It does. Of course it does. She wants him there, now. And it's not something she ever could have anticipated, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"I might get lunch with my kid, and then do some book stuff. But this morning, I'm yours."

* * *

"So, Dad." His daughter laces her fingers together and rests her chin on them, eyebrows quirked and mouth stitched into a smirk. "How is Detective Beckett taking the calendar?"

He takes a sip of his drink, tries desperately not to let his kid get to him. She shouldn't still be able to do this. It was different when she was a tiny wisp of a thing tugging on his pant leg and pleading with him. Now, she's this beautiful and independent woman, and she still has his heart firmly in her clutches.

"She, uhm- good?" He shifts in his seat, so very uncomfortable.

Alexis raises an eyebrow, leans backwards to regard him with a stare that has him shrivelling. "Is that a question?"

"No. She's good. We're good." He tries for a smile, finds it liquid at the edges so he can't quite make it stick.

Their server interrupts, setting their meals down in front of them and his system floods with relief. At least now he has something to hide behind.

Only, his kid has made no move to touch her own food, instead folding her arms and sighing at him. "Have some confidence, Dad. Gram says you two seem more than good."

"I do have confidence. I really don't- can we not talk about this?" He shoves a couple fries into his mouth, tries to look authoritative.

Alexis shrugs, finally starts eating. She's still watching him, though, so much judgement in her eyes. And he wishes it didn't, but it matters to him what his kid thinks. Kate is… Kate is kind of _it_ for him, and he needs his daughter to love her too.

"I just want to make sure you're not going to screw this up." She gives him a look swollen with an understanding he doesn't like. He forgets sometimes that his past, his graveyard of failed and ugly relationships, is not his alone. His little girl was there for all of it, lived through everything with him. And sure, he tried to shield her from the worst of it, but she knew.

"Alexis, pumpkin, I'm not going to screw it up. This thing, with Kate and I, it's really important to me." He pauses, squeezes her hand where it rests on the table. "She's really important to me. But that doesn't mean that I care about you any less, not at all."

She rolls her eyes, berates him around a mouthful of food. "Oh jeez Dad, what am I, six? I know that. It's an entirely different thing. I know the way you love her is different to the way you love me."

"Exactly." His breath rushes out of him, tastes like relief at the back of his throat. "And you're okay with this, right? Kate and me. You understand that things are kind of… serious?"

"Dad, it's been seven months, and that's not counting the four years before that. I figure it's pretty serious." She's sighing at him now, keeps shaking her head like she can't quite believe how much of an idiot her father really is.

"So you're okay with it?"

"Yes, Dad, that's the whole point. I see how she makes you happy." And finally. Finally. A smile from his little girl.

"She does. She really does."

* * *

She texts him. And it's so stupid and she shouldn't and she's exhausted and she should go home, but she does it anyway. And as soon as her phone makes the little noise to show her message has sent she hates herself.

_Yours or mine?_

It's just been a rough afternoon without him, the mountains of paperwork that she's desperately trying to clear before his party Friday, before Christmas Eve, drained her more than she expected. And the boys are so full of pity when they look at her, taking it in turns to make her coffee or sit in Castle's chair to spin theory with her.

It reminds her too much of that summer when he left, and that's ridiculous, because he didn't break up with her then (_he did_) and he hasn't done it now (_so why does it feel like he has?_).

She straps on her seatbelt, still sometimes feels a flutter of cloying panic, remembers the clawing desperation of her fingers against the material as the water rose to meet her.

He shot out her seatbelt. She thinks. She wasn't really conscious for that.

She does remember, though, him yelling at her. How his voice threaded down like age-old fingers through the surface of her soaking lungs, begged her to breathe.

And then she did. And then he clung to her, _why did you give up_ against the crown of her head, over and over in supplication.

_Mine, most definitely. See you soon._

She can't help her smile at the message, can't stop herself imagining how he'll look when he opens the door to her. How she goes inside now like it happens all the time, like she belongs.

The elevator takes too long and she has to clench her fists to stop herself pacing, nails carving half-moons into her palms.

She still doesn't have a key, won't accept one even though he's offered so many times. She wants to knock, just to get to see his face when he answers the door and it's her. He lights up, takes her into his arms and kisses her like a drowning man. She lets him take her coat, settling on the arm of the couch to tug her boots off.

They'll stay there, by the couch, and later he'll trip over them and grumble and sigh at her and she'll make a pithy remark about would he rather she not come over? And then he'll kiss her frown away and she'll do her best to let him taste her apology.

"Good day?" He stands in front of her, slips in between her knees and takes her hands in his, guides them to his waist.

"Mm. I'm tired." She almost falls forward against him, almost rests her forehead at his stomach.

He must see it, because he's easing her up so she can lean against him, arms tight at her back to hold her up. "Straight to bed?"

"No. I'll fall asleep. Couch."

She doesn't sit, doesn't want to crease her work pants. Also, she kind of wants to curl against him, and for that she needs him to sit first.

"Hungry?" He's already pulling out his phone, knows she won't have eaten dinner yet, even though it's late. Later than she meant for it to be, but the time just went on without her.

"Yeah."

"Chinese?"

"Yeah. Please."

He kisses the top of her head, so gentle with her. She's tired, and it's making her needy and emotional and raw and she wants him to take charge, make decisions for them both.

"Okay. You wanna change while I order it?"

She goes through to his bedroom, can hear him already on the phone with the takeout place by the time she gets there. She rummages in the closet, finds some yoga pants of hers and a sweater of his that she steals all the time because it is way, way too soft for him to keep all to himself.

Back out in his bedroom, she almost walks right past the package on her nightstand. It's not wrapped or anything, a clear plastic that means she can see straight to the inside.

"You found it."

She startles, turns to face him where he leans against the doorframe, package in her hands. "Floaties?"

He comes for her, cradles her face in both hands so she'll look at him, see how very serious he is. "No more drowning. Okay?"

"Okay."

He moves away, goes to the calendar that still hangs in here and fishes out today's notecard, comes back to hand it to her. "That was such a strange time. Right before the dawn of _this_." He takes her hand, squeezing so that she feels herself bruising bone deep. "I couldn't make you see how irrelevant Sophia was, not without churning up everything we weren't quite ready to face yet. It was almost peaceful. Knowing we'd get there. Just waiting."

"Peaceful for you. I was still battling so hard." She lists into him, drawn to the warm and comforting weight of his body next to hers.

He kisses the slope of her nose, hovers there a moment. "I wish I'd known that you were waging a war. I could have helped."

"No. I had to do it on my own." She fists her hands in the material over his hips, tries to stay upright. She is too tired to do this now. "Can we- I just want to eat and then sleep."

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry."

He holds her a while longer, the floaties between them and his mouth brushing her hairline, nuzzling. When the door goes he takes her with him, makes sure she's settled comfortably on the couch before he answers.

They eat in a quiet that feels right, so very unlike the startling silence at the bottom of that river, and then she crawls into his bed and he follows, an amniotic peace cloaking them, his hands soothing as they card through her hair.

"Castle?"

"Mm, yeah?"

"Thank you."

* * *

_**Matutine:**_

(adj.) just before the dawn


	20. Sankofa

**December 20: Sankofa**

* * *

"Where are we going?" She frowns at him, arms folded as he tries to nudge her into his bedroom.

He gets behind her, pushes her so that her feet slip on his hardwood, her upper body pinned to his. "It's a surprise. Go put on what I got you."

She stops dead in the doorway, turns to face him with eyes like flint. "You picked out my clothes?"

"I, uh- I bought them?" Castle swallows hard, takes a step back from her. She is really, seriously terrifying when she's mad.

Really mad, not the faux annoyance that encourages him to kiss away her frown. The kind of mad he still is never quite sure how to diffuse.

"You did what?"

"I couldn't tell you what you should get for yourself without ruining everything. Just trust me on this." He takes her hand, holds it to his chest in both of his like it will make a difference.

She sighs at him, shakes her head, but she goes.

* * *

"You ready to be zombified, Detective Beckett?" He grins at her, pushes the door open with his hip and holds it for her to go through first.

She gives him a long look, watches him start to wither, and then she laughs and steps inside. Castle comes up behind her, hot and heavy at her back as they join the queue. There's a table with two exuberant volunteers collecting cans from everyone and then ushering them inside.

Kate turns back to Castle, already half-full with panic. "Did you-"

"Right here." He hands her a can of soup, holds his own in both hands. They have to donate a can for the food drive in order to be zombified.

She knows that the volunteers are going to put makeup on them, probably do awful things to her hair so she looks right for the 'undead elf' outfit Castle bought for her, but after that, she's clueless. She still has no idea what the point of this whole endeavour is.

At the front of the queue, a man with an ax sticking out of his head takes her can, growls at her to go through. She strides off, hears Rick whining at her to wait for him. He catches up, barreling into her so hard she has to steady herself with a hand at the wall.

He gets his hands at her hips, whispers an apology as they enter the room. There are six stations occupied by volunteers busy turning people into the walking dead, and then people waiting to be turned milling around, hovering near the refreshment table.

"You want a drink, babe?" Castle grins at her, already heading towards the table.

She glares at him, follows so she can smack at his arm. "Don't call me that. But sure, yeah."

"But you are a total babe in that outfit."

Babe is one word for it. She's wearing the traditional elf garb, tiny scrap of a dress and striped stockings, recast in the hues of the undead. It's ripped and torn, fake mud licking the edges of the holes like she actually has crawled out of a grave. There was a hat, too, but she'd taken one look at it and scowled, told him _no, never_.

Next to the refreshments table, someone vacates their chair and Castle throws himself down into it, narrowly beating a guy who looks fresh out of college. Kate sidles over to him, flicks her eyes from him to the chair and then back to him.

He shrugs, tugs her down to sit on his knees, arms tight around her waist to keep her there. "I'm not risking getting up. You can just sit on me."

She shifts, the hard edge of his kneecap digging into her butt, not helped at all when he starts jiggling. She turns a glare over her shoulder at him and he kisses her, end of her nose, then her chin and finishing at her mouth. "You still okay with this? We can go home if you want."

"No, I'm intrigued now. We're staying."

* * *

She looks amazing.

The makeup artist clearly went to town because there are pieces of skin hanging off of her face, eyes sunken in and freakishly yellow, a string of _brain tissue_ hanging from the corner of her mouth. He doesn't know whether to gag or crow with delight.

"Wow. Look at you."

She grins, the prosthetics at the corners of her mouth shifting slightly, and he huffs at her. "You're not meant to smile. You're cursed to roam the earth for eternity. Come on, Beckett, get into character."

Outside, the moon licks over her face, makes her into this brooding figure. She carries death so well. And he was worried, when he thought of this, worried about whether he'd be able to stomach Kate the Cadaver, but it's fine.

The clawed-away face, the exposed bone in her leg, all of it is far enough away from a gunshot that it's fine, good even.

He kisses the top of her head, her hair backcombed and wild like she's electrically charged. "You ready?"

"For what? What happens now?"

"Carols of the Undead." He grins at her.

She blinks, startled by that, but he can see excitement blooming through her, such a delicious juxtaposition to the grey pallor of her skin. "Carols?"

"Yeah. We're starting in front of the mall and then we're just going to go where the mood takes us, stumble around and whatnot." He bounces on the balls of his feet, already so very excited.

The event coordinator arranges everyone into a group, tells them to pair up, and he snags Kate's hand before anyone else can even think of trying it on with the sexiest zombie to ever have not lived.

She turns startled eyes up to him, her shoes flats that curl up at the end. He still can't quite believe she actually agreed to put the costume on. He kisses her hair again, wants so badly to take from her mouth.

He doesn't really want to taste that little string of brain matter that swings every time she talks, though. Yeah.

"You ready?"

"Uhuh. Yeah." She manages a half-smile, has to battle at the prosthetic for it. It's mostly in her eyes anyway, the city lights catching in them and swirling.

They set off, the salon where they were zombified only about a twenty minute walk from the mall. He gets to swing his and Kate's clasped hands between their bodies, chatter away to her about other people in the group, a ballerina with an eye ripped out particularly catching his attention.

He's not worried about being seen, recognised. Their costumes are good, and it's a Thursday. Everyone out right now is busy shopping, not on the look out for a mystery novelist and his detective girlfriend.

The zombies pool in front of the mall's main entrance, shuffling and groaning while a conductor with a baton rammed through his head makes his way to the front. And then they start singing, just ordinary carols to start with. Later, they'll throw in a couple of undead themes, rewrite some classics, but they're only warming up right now.

He goes for it, lets go of his inhibitions and belts out the song. And then, halfway through, he stops, because Kate-

Kate Beckett is going for it just as much as he is, her voice so lovely. That's not news, but hearing her sing exaltation, hearing her singing age-old words about the most true of things, about love beyond time, it is going to break him right here.

She is so wonderful, and God. _God_, he wants to marry this woman.

She shoots him a look and he starts singing again, only half paying attention to what's coming out of his mouth. Most of him is ringing out in hallelujah, his body being tugged up to meet her voice.

The song finishes and the spatter of people that stopped to watch applaud, some of them dropping money in the bucket, money that will go towards the food drive. Kate turns to him, stretches up onto her toes to press her mouth underneath his jaw, tongue just darting out to taste him.

"This is so much fun." She breathes, her whole face lighting up even underneath the makeup.

"Yeah."

Yeah. It really is.

* * *

They're both quiet in the shower, watching the makeup swirling down the drain like entrails. He raises a washcloth to her, wipes the last of it from her face and then he peppers kisses all over her, soothing the raw places that the prosthetics left.

He looked so good. The lamplight on his face made him this intense and almost majestic figure, and he's_ tall_. He's tall, and people got out of his way to let him move past and she got tugged along in his rip current, got to hold hands with the tall, handsome undead man.

She was proud of him. Proud to be on his arm, proud to be the one that he looked at like she was everything. He's still doing it now; in the shower in the near dark because he thought it would be fun not to turn the bathroom light on.

He bows his head, forehead meeting hers so the water is channelled into a raging torrent that pours down the slope of his nose and hits her chin.

"I had fun tonight." She smiles up at him, has to step back so she doesn't become the mouth of the river.

He pours shower gel onto his palm, starts lathering it over his torso even as he's grinning at her. "It was pretty awesome, huh?"

"Yeah. You a frequent zombie walker now, Castle?" She raises an eyebrow, smoothes conditioner through the ends of her hair.

"Nah."

"Why not? I figure it was made for you."

"I, uhm-" he pauses, can't meet her eyes. "It just doesn't appeal?"

"Oh my God. You're scared. You are scared to go on a zombie walk."

He takes a step back, comes up against the tile. "What? No. I am not scared."

"Sure." She tilts her head, eyebrows quirked at him.

"I'm not." She waits. "Well okay, maybe a little. I mean, think about what happened to Kyle. What if that happened to me? What if someone you've put in jail orchestrates it so that _I _get slipped that drug and end up killing_ you_?"

"You've put some serious thought into this, huh?" She rinses the last of her conditioner out, shuts off the water and takes the towel he hands to her, knotting it at her chest.

He disappears off into the bedroom and she follows, finds him already tugging on sweats. "Yeah. I mean, if I lost you, I'd-" he trails off, and she knows. She knows how it would break him, because she's felt the same crushing desperation a dozen times when she's almost lost _him_.

"And if I was the one to kill you. I couldn't get over that. So no, not risking it."

She tugs on underwear, a shirt of his that hits her mid-thigh, and then she crawls into his bed, waits for him to follow.

"No risking it. But maybe we could make this a Christmas tradition?"

He kisses her, long and deep and invasive, his body easing on top of hers. She clings to him, a hand at the back of his neck, the other curled around his shoulder. When he breaks away he's grinning even as his chest heaves against her.

"Yeah. A tradition. Sounds good to me."

She pushes him off of her so she can curl at his side, bring a knee up to hook over his thigh and press her open mouth to the soft skin at his neck.

"But Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Next year, I buy my own costume."

* * *

_**Sankofa:**_

(n.) "go back and fetch it"; we must look back to the past so that we may understand how we became what we are, and move forward to a better future


	21. Aubade

**December 21: Aubade**

* * *

He kisses her.

The captain isn't here. Actually, no one's here yet except his mother and his kid, and Ryan and Espo. So when she arrives, he kisses her.

He cradles the back of her head, curls tumbling over his knuckles, his other hand settling in the curve of her spine. She steps forward into him, her body nudging against his, hands sliding inside his jacket to bracket his waist.

When they break apart Javi is whistling at them, catcalls across the loft. Kate flushes, hides her face against the side of his neck.

"You look incredible." He breathes it against her cheek, has to battle not to run his hands over her curves, cling to them the way this dress does. It goes right down to her knees, full length sleeves, and still, _still_, it gets to him.

She smirks, kisses the crease of his chin and then takes a step back, straightens his collar. "You look good too. I tried to pick something that didn't show a lot of skin, take away some of the temptation."

"It's not working." He groans, kisses her again and then they both have to move because a gaggle of his mother's friends are spilling into the loft, the woman herself striding out of the kitchen to meet them.

He tugs Kate over to the couch, watches her sit between Kevin and Javi. "Drink?"

"Oh, yeah. Whatever's open." She gives him a radiant smile, turns back to talk to Kevin, and Castle stands there a moment, just watching. She's so beautiful.

So absolutely, breathtakingly stunning, and sometimes he still can't believe that he gets to be hers, that it's him she saves those smiles for.

Smiles like the one she's turning up to him now, a question making her eyebrows raise just a little. "Right. Drink. Sorry."

He gets her a glass of wine, pours one for himself as well. He's supposed to be hosting, supposed to be mingling, but all he wants to do is be with Kate. And she'd kill him if she knew, he knows that, but it doesn't make it any less true.

He tugs the coffee table over and sits at the edge of it, so close that his knees brush Kate's bare ones. The tight and wonderful skirt of her dress has ridden up a little, showing a few inches of thigh that he just wants to touch. His hands, his mouth, he's not fussy.

She takes the glass he offers, sips it slowly with her eyes on him because she knows exactly what she's doing and she likes it.

And he doesn't even care. He likes _her_. He likes her a whole lot.

His kid comes over, nudges at her father with her hip. "Dad, you're meant to be greeting people at the door. This is bad hosting."

"I know. I was just catching up with the guys."

"You saw them yesterday." Alexis sighs, rolls her eyes at him and Kate laughs, a bright peal that has her mouth opening wide, teeth like sentry rows.

He gets to his feet, groans as he does so, mostly for his daughter's benefit. She takes his place on the table, so at ease with Kate and the boys, and he's so proud of her.

She's such an intelligent, beautiful woman now. And sometimes his heart aches for the tiny, curious little thing she used to be, sometimes he misses the soft weight of her curled at his chest, but he's so very grateful for her now, his wonderful little girl.

The loft door is wide open, people still flooding through. He didn't invite many people, just his immediate precinct family, his Gotham City crew and a few people from Black Pawn. It won't matter though, his mother has invited enough of her actor friends to fill the space, keep everyone buoyant.

When they were up at the cabin, Castle invited Jim. He said no, said he wanted to stay out of town, but that he'd call if he changed his mind. He hasn't called, but Rick is still holding out hope.

He wants Jim here, wants Kate to get to spend Christmas with her family. And yes, he hopes that he and his mother and his kid are family to her now, but she needs her dad too.

Castle pokes his head out of the doorway, cranes his neck, but it doesn't look like anyone else is on their way. So he closes the door, turns to face the room full of people already relaxed, already clustering in groups and laughing and drinking and some people even dancing already.

This right here is why he likes to throw parties. He's a social person, loves how his loft fills with light when all these people descend on it. And this year, it's even better.

This year, unlike any of the others that have come before, once everyone goes home he gets to take Kate Beckett to bed.

She's watching him, her mouth moving in conversation with Esposito, face oriented towards the detective, but her eyes are on Castle.

He rejoins them, his kid and Kate and Ryan and Espo, a little cluster of his very favourite people. His mother is hovering in the kitchen, pouring drinks for all her friends, so much noise already.

Castle squeezes himself in between Kate and Ryan, wriggles around so Beckett ends up half on his lap. He gets his arms around her waist to hold her there, brushes her hair aside to kiss the skin behind her ear, perfume sharp on his tongue.

"Everyone okay?"

There's a chorus of agreement and he grins, some basic part of him settled now that he's sure his family are happy.

The door opens again and it's Jenny and Lanie, the two of them having apparently met in the elevator.

Ryan gets up, goes to his wife to take her coat, kiss her softly. Esposito's rolling his eyes at his partner but he's standing too, going to greet Lanie. Castle makes a mental note to watch the two of them, see if there are any developments tonight.

Alexis moves from the table to the couch and Kate shifts as well, his girls sandwiching him. His kid is on her phone, texting someone, so he takes the moment of almost-privacy to turn to Kate, kiss her again.

It's just a light and fleeting thing but she arches her neck into it, sighs so quietly he tastes more than hears it. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You know why Jenny didn't arrive with Ryan?"

Kate shrugs, her mouth turning down at the corners. "He said something about her going to dinner with her sister I think."

"Oh. Okay then. You want a refill?" He gestures to her glass, settles his hand at her knee.

She leans into his side, so warm and good. "Yeah. I'll get it. Aren't you supposed to be mingling?"

"I just want to stay with you."

She rests her head against his shoulder a moment, kisses his neck, his jaw. "I know. Me too. But Gates might show up, and the boys will tease us. We're not joined at the hip."

But even so, when she stands and tugs him up too, she holds his hand all the way to the kitchen. His mother refills Kate's glass, ensnares her in some conversation with a couple of her friends.

Still, even now, he forgets she reads plays.

He presses a last kiss to her cheek, goes to find someone to talk to and tries his best not to look as pathetically lost without her as he feels.

* * *

She takes his hand without a word, waits patiently for him to finish up a conversation with one of his mother's friends and Patterson.

He glances to her mid-sentence, punctuates his words with a brush of his mouth to her cheek, and it has need coiling tight in her stomach. She wants him. Badly.

"Excuse me," he nods to the other two men and then he's letting her lead him away, over towards the stairwell where they can have some modicum of privacy.

She steps back against the wall, tugs him against her with her hands fisted in his shirt. She's creasing it and she doesn't care because he's cradling her hips, his thumbs stroking over the lace of her dress. His mouth meets hers and she grits out a moan against his teeth, whimpers at the back of his throat when he gets a knee between hers.

He's panting when she pauses for air, his nose pressed against her cheekbone. "Kate?"

"You look so good in this suit."

And then he's grinning, his mouth brushing over hers again and again until she grips the back of his neck and holds him in place, works her tongue against his.

He breaks away again, takes a tiny step back so their chests brush as her lungs work overtime. "We can't."

He cradles her cheeks, kisses her light and soft this time, thumbs soothing at her temples. "I want you too, Kate, but we can't. Not right now. When everyone goes home, then I'm all yours."

* * *

Some actor friend of his mother's has commandeered the piano, a gaggle of them bunched around it singing.

And then people are dancing, his kid shoving armchairs out of the way. He helps her move the coffee table and the rug, create a dance floor in the middle of his living room.

It's cramped, everyone's bodies pressed up against each other, but no one seems to care. There's so much laughter, alcohol bubbling through most people and turning them into this languid mass of skin and sweat in the middle of the loft.

Kate comes up behind him, wraps her arms around his waist and he turns to face her, those ridiculous heels putting her at exactly the right height for him to brush his mouth over hers.

She nudges him backwards into the throng of people, her body an undulating wave against his as she tips her chin to the ceiling, peals of laughter flowing out of her.

He gets his hands at her waist, not really dancing at all. Just holding her, trying to keep the fluid heat of her close to him.

The song finishes, spatters of applause rippling through the crowd and then there's a new pianist taking over, a new song starting.

It's slow.

People start moving away, only those here with a partner staying on the dance floor. He readies himself for Kate to skulk off, but instead she's coming up against him, guiding his hands to her waist. He holds her, her own fingers laced behind his neck, and he moves with her, lets the music flood through him.

It's only when she rests her head at his shoulder that he realizes she's kicked her shoes off, just the right height for him to kiss her hair, her temple. He can feel people watching them, his mother's soft and loving eyes and Esposito's faux disgust, and he can't even make himself care because she feels amazing in his arms and he just-

He loves her so very much.

The dancing goes on for hours, and then people start to filter out of the loft, kissing his cheeks and shaking his hand and thanking him for a wonderful party.

He smiles, nods, wishes everyone well, tells everyone 'see you next year!' and then he shuts the door, turns to lean back against it. His mother is gone, followed some of her friends to a bar, and his kid went out to meet friends of her own.

So now there's Kate.

Just Kate, like a goddess in the middle of his living room, still so regal even with her shoes off, bare toes curling against the hardwood.

He goes, takes her up in his arms and kisses her the way he's wanted to all night, slow and deep and thorough, her hands clinging to him.

"You are so incredible." He breathes it into her mouth and she laughs, catches his fingers in her own, her eyes soft on his. "I'm really glad we didn't die today."

She smirks, shakes her head at him. "I told you there wasn't going to be an apocalypse."

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but then she's tugging him into his own bedroom and he gives up. She can have him.

When they get there, he nudges her into the closet. She turns a startled look over her shoulder to him but she goes, lets him close the door with her body.

"I'm sorry our first morning got ruined. I'm sorry I hid you in the closet." He turns her around so he can get at her zipper; peel it down tooth by tooth, her back revealed in slices. He kisses the top of her spine even as he's getting his hands inside, peeling the dress off of her.

She turns back to him when it pools around her feet, kisses him in just her underwear. "Not ruined. No. Perfect for us."

"Even so. Let me reacquaint you with my closet."" He can't keep his mouth off her, his body too close for her to get at his buttons properly. She grits out a sigh of frustration, shoves at him and then attacks his shirt with renewed vigour.

"I'd rather get reacquainted with your bed."

* * *

_**Aubade:**_

(n.) a love song sung at dawn


	22. Pulchritude

**December 22: Pulchritude**

* * *

She groans, turns her face into the pillow, her head being lanced with sharp lines of heat over and over. Oh, God, that _hurts_.

There's a raw, ragged whimpering crawling up out of the back of her throat and she's utterly powerless to stop it, the ache in her brain travelling around behind her eyes so she doesn't dare open them.

Castle's weight is heavy and omnipresent in the bed next to her and it's suffocating but she can't move, her whole body centered around the ache in her head, shards of her brain just splintering off. She must whimper a little too loud because then he's waking up, the bed rocking as he shifts.

"Kate?" he whispers, gets his hands under her to haul her up against him. And it hurts, and she keens, but then it's better, her lungs suddenly filling more easily, her brain finally getting the oxygen she's desperate for.

He kisses her temple very carefully and she only realises she's shivering when he tugs the covers up over her, tucks them around her shoulders.

They're both sprawled, half sitting up against the headboard and she feels beached on the plane of his abdomen but there's nothing she can do about it, her body mutinous.

"Kate? Are you okay?"

"Head hurts." She fists a hand against his skin, nails catching him so he yelps. He's already lifting again, easing her to lie back down and kissing her forehead, crawling out of bed.

"I'll go get some Advil, some water. It'll be okay."

When he comes back he stays on top of the covers, rests a hand at her forehead a moment. "You're hot."

She lets him ease her into a sitting position, takes the water he offers, the pills. "I need to go to work. Castle, I need-"

"No way. You need to go back to sleep." He lies down, his arms around her so she gets tugged into the cove of his body, no choice but to curl up with him.

Kate whines even as she's fisting a hand in his shirt, her head bowing so her forehead hits his chest. "But the paperwork. I have to get it cleared."

"It can wait." He kisses the top of her head, running his hands through her hair again and again.

It's soothing. It is. She falls asleep to the soft murmur of his voice and the reverence of his fingertips brushing her skin.

* * *

She's whimpering, her legs kicking under the covers, and it's killing him.

He's next to her in the bed, his legs stretched out on top of the sheets, laptop on his thighs. And yes, thank you, he knows not to do that, but he didn't want to leave her alone.

It's worrying him. She didn't even drink all that much at the party, not enough to be this hungover. It's just a headache. Just a headache.

Only, his stupid imagination is running away with him, imagining aneurisms and haemorrhages and all the ways she might be silently taken from him.

And now a nightmare.

He pushes the covers down off of her, gives her room to thrash around as much as she needs. He knows better than to wake her.

Once, when he did that, she'd hit him. Not hard enough to do real damage, her muscles still threaded through with sleep, but she knocked the breath right out of him.

It took him a long time to calm her down from that, soothe away her guilt with the slow circle of his hand at her back.

Kate, present day Kate, sits up with a start, gasping for air, her eyes screwed shut. She hasn't opened them yet today and God, he misses them.

He misses her.

He doesn't mind taking care of her, of course not. He just hates this shadow of a thing she's become, not even strong enough to look at him.

Her hand flails around, searching, and he catches it up in his own, squeezes. His laptop hits the nightstand with a thud and then he's taking her up in his arms, trying to comfort her the only way he knows how.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm right here. You're safe. You're okay."

She opens her eyes, finally, tears weighing heavy on her lashes so they bend like tree branches under snow. "Castle." Her voice is a breathy and unused thing, his name falling apart against her teeth.

"I'm here. It's okay."

She clutches at him, her fingers claws that curl into his shirt, her breath coming in these stuttering gasps that gut him.

It takes her a while to settle, her body getting more and more liquid in his arms, soaking into him in increments. He knows she's back with him when she kisses his chin, pillows her head against him.

"You okay?"

She sighs, her eyelids fluttering, body heavy with exhaustion. "Yeah."

"Head still sore?" He kisses her temple like that will soothe her, like it can do anything to help.

She shrugs, the curve of her shoulder knocking into him, her knee sliding between both of his. "Not so bad now. Just throbbing a bit."

"That's good." He kisses her cheek, slides his hands underneath her so he can lift her off of him, get her comfortable against the mattress. "Try to sleep again. It'll help."

He expects her to fight him, refuse to let him tell her what to do, but she doesn't answer. He glances at her and she's already gone, face slack and lips parted.

Castle leaves her in bed, moves through to the couch because he's even starting to irritate _himself _with how very desperately he wants to be near her. He's still got his laptop, the final scene of the next book flowing out of him.

He hasn't really written anything that comes before, plot-wise, but sometimes it happens that way. Sometimes he knows the ending long before the whys and hows of getting there are clear.

* * *

"Can I see?"

He holds a finger up to her, asking for just a moment of patience. He copies the text he'll let her read, pastes it to a new document.

He doesn't want to spoil it for her, ruin the ending, but this she can see.

He passes her the laptop and she settles it on her thighs, thumb against her mouth in concentration. She reads it, and then she turns her laughter to face him, layers of parentheses around her mouth where the stretch of her lips has creased her skin again and again.

"You stole the words right out of my mouth."

He shrugs, can't help smirking at her. "They were just so _right_."

"I definitely want a writer's credit for that." Kate smirks at him, her face so alive, and Castle is so very grateful.

She looks so much better than this morning, the colour back in her cheeks, her eyes bright, lines at the corners like road maps as she grins.

He laughs too, only half his attention on her as the words continue to gush out of him in a torrent. "Sure. Yeah. Today's gift?"

"Uhm, no. That's not a gift, Castle, that's a _right_." She jabs at his side under his ribs, hard, and it just has him grinning. There's his Kate back.

He pouts at her and she catches his bottom lip between her teeth, soothes the raw place with her tongue. He pulls back from her enough that he can smile, go back in to kiss her properly. "But what else can I give you? You already have a key to the Hamptons."

"You know how you made me investigate that case instead of doing what I went for?" Her face stretches into a leer and she takes his laptop, rests it on the coffee table so she can crawl up over his body, the stretch of her over him so very delicious.

"Doing me?" He swallows hard, clutches at her hips with hands he can't even feel, clumsy and heavy on her.

She smirks, catches his earlobe between her teeth and _arches_, pushing her stomach and her hips and her thighs flush with his. "For today's gift. Give me the missed opportunities."

"Your head. Kate." He tips his head back, closes his eyes like it will help him scrape some self-control from somewhere.

She's fluid in his lap, viscous so he can't quite get a hold of her, and she's kissing him between words like they're punctuation. "Fine. It's fine. Help me forget."

* * *

She rubs her hands over her face, groaning into her palms and then closing them together, resting the tips of her middle fingers at her chin. "I should shower. I'm a wreck."

She moves to go past him and he stands to intercept her, brackets her hips in his hands. She startles, looks up at him, her mouth already parted and just so inviting that he can't _not_.

He kisses her, soft and careful and trying so hard not to make her still-aching head even worse. She sighs into it, dissolves the whole thing with a smile.

"You're beautiful. All the time, every day."

It's too much. He knows that, but her face is cracking open, spilling light over them both. And it's true.

It has perhaps never been more true than right here in this moment.

She stretches up onto her tiptoes so she can kiss him again, hardly even making contact. "I hope it doesn't damage your ego, but you're beautiful too."

"Not handsome?" He strikes a pose, tries to emulate all those models he sees with their brooding faces, eyes like storms.

Only, she laughs, and then he can't be serious. He grins at her, makes his eyebrows dance.

"Yeah. Handsome. But beautiful too. All the ways you love. Your mother, your kid, me. You have such a wonderful soul, Castle."

She's biting her lip now, peering up at him from underneath her lashes like he's going to take offence at that. The most incredibly astonishing thing anyone has ever said to him.

"Kate." He breathes her name, finds his knees have turned liquid so he lists into her, gasping. "Kate. If I have a wonderful soul, it's only because of you. It's only because I'm trying to be good enough for you, be what you deserve."

She's shaking her head at that, her eyes imploring on his. "You are more than enough."

Her hand comes up between them, notecard clutched in her fingers, and she presses the edge of it to his chest, flicking at the edge of his shirt pocket.

"You saw it already, huh?" He takes it from her, traces the words he wrote, over a month ago now, with the pad of his thumb.

She smiles again, slides her hands into the back pockets of his jeans to keep him against her. "Best part of the day."

"Really? Best part of my day is waking up next to you."

He's not prepared for the barrel of her body into him, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt, mouth open at his chest. "That too. I haven't said thank you enough, Castle. This Christmas is already so wonderful and we haven't even really gotten there yet."

"Don't thank me. I just want for you to be happy." He kisses the top of her head, gets his hands at her shoulders to set her back from him. "You want a bath instead?"

"Yeah. Then sleep."

"Okay."

They're already undressed and sinking down into the amniotic heat of the water, their bodies clammy with steam and sticking, when she speaks again.

"Castle? My favorite part of the day isn't waking up. It's going to sleep next to you."

* * *

_**Pulchritude:**_

(n.) physical beauty


	23. Quiddity

**December 23: Quiddity **

* * *

He doesn't get to have her on Sunday.

She has to go to the precinct, catch up on all she missed yesterday, try to stay afloat ahead of the tsunami tide that will surely follow Christmas itself, so many people pushed to breaking point by the season.

He asked her to come over after work, spend the night with him, and she said she'd try. She has things to do, apparently, last minute gifts to get, things to wrap.

And still, she's going to try.

His morning is taken up with his own last minute chores, his own gifts wrapped and stashed safely under the tree. He goes grocery shopping with his kid, lets her pick out almost everything.

This has been their thing since she was tiny. She's always helped him, always been there. She's always hung the wreath, helped him decorate. It was his daughter that did the zombie walk with him last year.

And that has him stopping dead in the middle of the aisle, snagging at the hem of her sweater. "Alexis?"

She turns back to him on a scowl, their grocery list caught in her fist. "What, Dad? Not happy with the desserts?"

"Not that. I'm sorry. Kate's been here for so much. I've included her in our traditions as far as possible and it's been at your expense and I never even thought." He shakes his head at himself, reaches out to catch his daughter's hand in his own.

She squeezes his fingers, rests her head against his shoulder in the middle of the aisle like she's six again. "No, Dad. It's okay. I couldn't be here the same way I always have been, because of college. I'm glad you had Kate to fill the gaps with."

"Yes, but don't think that means there's no room for you." He lets her go and turns back to the shelves, not trusting himself to do this here without saying too much, embarrassing them both.

Alexis nudges the cart towards him, starts filling it with vegetables. "I know there's room for me, Dad. I'm just glad you have her."

* * *

He unlocks her door, a zap of delighted mischief shooting through his bloodstream even now, and he steps into her apartment, shedding his coat as he goes.

There's a space in her closet for his coat and scarf to hang next to hers and that means more to him than he thinks it should.

Castle hovers a moment, arrested by the far-away-sounding crash of water against the bottom of her bathtub, Kate's lazy humming as she moves around the bathroom. And then he can't make himself wait any longer.

She's not wearing anything, her hair knotted on top of her head so a few curls tumble down, brush her shoulders the way he wants to with his mouth. He hovers in the doorway as she steps into the bathtub, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure at the lick of warmth up her calves.

She settles back against the porcelain, cold making her shoulders curl forward. Her shoulder blades sharp in her skin like the wings of a newborn bird, a nubile fragility to her that he just wants to taste.

He kneels next to her, the hard crack of bone against the tile making her smirk. "You okay old man?"

He winces, shifting to try and find a comfortable position. "Fine."

He wants to be in there with her so badly, but her bath is her sacred place and he won't compromise that. If she wants him, she'll ask.

"What are you doing here?" She sighs, slipping down a little further into the bathtub so the water laps at her clavicles, her body a shadowy thing under the surface.

He pushes his shirtsleeves up, rests his forearms against the lip of the tub. "Missed you today." She lifts a hand to tangle her fingers with his, tugging him into the water until he can brush the back of his knuckles over the swell of her breast. "Work okay?"

"Yeah. You spend some quality time with Alexis?"

"Yeah. Course." He pauses, his hand coming up to cradle her shoulder. "Kate. If you don't want to come over tomorrow, that's okay. I know you have your tradition; I know you work to honour your mom. I just want you to be happy, whatever you need for that."

"Get in."

She sits up; her fingers at his belt even as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling to get the damn thing off. He grits his teeth and tugs, the bottom three buttons hanging from strands of thread like cobwebs. Kate shoves his boxers down with his pants, her nails carving hot lines of desire down his thighs as she goes.

She scoots forward and he steps in behind her, hissing as his skin tightens against the heat. He never will understand how she can stand it being so hot. She's laughing as he tugs her back against him, her body buoyant over his thighs but her back flush with his chest.

He kisses behind her ear, catches the lobe in his teeth and tugs just enough that her hips drive back against his.

Kate turns so her knees bracket his hips, mouth liquid and pouring into his. "Stop giving me an out. I want to be there."

"Are you sure?"

"Castle." She laughs, head bowing so her forehead meets his. "I spent the whole day today wishing you were there."

"You did?" He cradles her waist, chasing her mouth again.

"Yes. It's not the same without your creepy staring and your ridiculous theories." Kate circles her hips against his, the water shifting violently with the roll of her body. "But I won't take you away from your family on Christmas. So I'll be there."

"Kate." Her name breaks apart against the back of his teeth and he groans, clings to her, struggling to find purchase against the slick warmth of her skin. "What about your tradition?"

"It's time for new traditions, Castle."

* * *

"Stay tonight." She breathes against him, his body omnipresent in the bed. It's like being cloaked in him, and every time he shifts, tries to ease his weight off of her she moans, clings tighter to him.

He sighs, kisses her throat, his mouth cresting up to brush over her jaw and settle against the tip of her nose. "I can't. Breakfast with my mother and my kid tomorrow. It's another tradition."

"I could come with you."

"Now?"

Kate arches against him, hums in satisfaction as the spaces between her bones swell and then settle, leaving her pooled in the middle of the mattress like a lake of shadow. "Yeah. I'm coming tomorrow until New Year's, right? So what's an extra night?"

"You really want to pack now?" Castle grins, slides three fingers under her wrist to lift her arm and then let it drop back to the sheets, inertia thick in her veins.

"Already did."

He grins, his smile leaving an imprint at her temple. "Eager?"

"Yeah."

* * *

_**Quiddity:**_

(n.) the inherent nature or essence of someone or something


	24. Kalon

**December 24: Kalon**

* * *

She slides out from underneath him very carefully, holds her breath, does everything she can to keep her weight even so there's no sudden dip in the mattress that could rouse him.

It almost works. She gets so very close, and then right as she's about to take a step away from the bed his fingers snag around her wrist.

"Don't go." He mumbles it, face mashed against his pillow, but it lances her in two.

How she wishes she could stay, be with his family today. "I have to. I'm covering Karpowski today."

"Oh. Kay." He rubs at one eye with a fist, smoothes his palm over his own face in a half-hearted attempt to rouse himself.

She runs a hand through his hair, tames it a little, and then she bends to kiss him, soft at the corner of his mouth. "It's going to be busy. People get pushed that little bit too far."

"Kay. Come for dinner?"

"It might be late." She straightens, has to fold her arms to stop herself climbing right back into bed with him.

"So come late. Leftovers. Home. Come home. Don't care about late." She knows it's cruel to make him have this conversation while he's still struggling to break the surface of his inertia, but she wants to do it face to face, wants to be able to kiss him if she needs to.

She does need to.

It's a light and careful thing, both their mouths still closed, just dusting. "Okay. I'll come home for leftovers. See you tonight."

"Mm. Love you."

She says it back, finds it slips easily off of her tongue now, not at all like the battle it was the first time. Kate glances to him, finds he's already out, and that's good too.

She wants him to sleep in, spend today with his family.

She wishes she could have him with her. She does. But she won't ruin their Christmas for her own sake, won't take Alexis' father away.

* * *

He makes breakfast for his kid and his mother, the three of them in a line at the counter. They both laughed when he presented them with pancakes in snowman shapes, chocolate drops for the coat buttons, but they're eating them.

The empty stool next to him is unsettling in way it never has been before; he feels the absence of the laughter of the woman who should be here deep in his stomach. He won't let it show on his face, knows she'd hate him for that, but he misses her. He does.

There are so many traditions to see through today, things he's done since he was a child himself, but none of it seems quite whole without her.

Alexis is watching him, her mouth turned down at the corners just slightly. Just enough that guilt surges through him, hot and dark. "Sorry. Were you saying something, Pumpkin?"

"I was just asking if Kate's going to come to church with us." His daughter shrugs, takes another bite of breakfast like it's not important, but it is.

He knows it is. "She said she'd probably get here late because everything's usually so busy for her over Christmas. But if she's here in time then I'm sure she'd like that."

"Okay. I hope she makes it."

He stands, gathers his mother's plate along with his own, and he kisses the top of Alexis' head as he moves for the dishwasher. "Me too."

His mother gets up too, claps her hands together like the sudden rush of staleness in the room can be dispelled that easily.

And he won't pretend. It does help.

"Well, I have some last minute gifts to wrap. Richard, dear, are you and Alexis going over to the soup kitchen?"

He finishes up loading the plates into the dishwasher, straightens to face his family. "If she wants to. What do you want to do, Pumpkin?"

"Sure, Dad. Tradition, right?" His kid grins, shoves her last bite of food into her mouth and gets up, still chewing even as she puts her plate away.

His mother ushers them both out of the kitchen, saying something about them getting out of her hair so she can wrap their gifts. Castle isn't really listening, preoccupied with finding his scarf.

He had it yesterday for sure, remembers taking it off when he got home from Kate's apartment. He just can't-

"Dad, scarf." Alexis tosses it at him and it hits him square in the face, her laughter still swirling around their heads as he finishes wrapping it around his neck. He's got a great kid.

She waits by the door, sighs at him when he finally joins her, just enough eye-rolling involved that he knows she's not really mad.

He turns a grin to her in the elevator and gets a smile back, his daughter rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. This is her favourite part.

She'd come up with it herself when she was seven and she'd been learning about charity at school, come home with a leaflet from some soup kitchen that had given a talk. Her eyes had been so imploring, her speech about why it was important so passionate that he'd had no choice to give in.

And now every year they help out, bring as much as they can carry for the food drive. His kid has a cardboard box full of cans, her chin resting on the top.

It must be heavy, but she won't let him take it, cradling it to her chest like a precious thing.

They take a cab to the kitchen, his kid going straight inside while he pays the driver, tips double what he usually would. It's Christmas, after all.

All the people that crowd the soup kitchen are waving at Alexis, one of the volunteer staff taking their donation from her so she can sit, chat to these people she only sees once a year.

Castle goes straight to the kitchen, starts helping out. Alexis will come back here later, do her fair share. The staff here are lax with her anyway, know that what she brings to the people who need them, people who have nothing, is perhaps worth more than the food.

* * *

Kate makes it in time for church.

She makes it in time, and he could weep.

This is his favourite part. His kid loves the soup kitchen; his mother loves the movies they'll watch later tonight. And he loves the Christmas Eve service.

He tugs her straight inside and catches her wrist before she can take her coat off, kisses her with no direction, too full up with excitement to concentrate even for this. She's laughing at him, following him into the kitchen and taking the food he offers, a hand coming up to tug at her scarf, give herself a little more breathing room.

"We're leaving for church in ten minutes. Please say you'll come." He plants both hands on the counter like that's going to help him calm down.

He's just excited. It's Christmas Eve and Kate's here, Kate made it in time, and he has his family whole and here with him.

Kate takes a mouthful of food, a tactic he knows she employs sometimes to give herself a little time to think. But by the time she swallows he knows she's coming with them, her smile starting at the corners of her eyes and spreading outwards, her whole face alight with it. "Okay. Yeah. I'll come to church."

* * *

They each get a Christingle when they arrive, his mother and daughter ahead, Kate's arm twined through his. She tugs herself free to cradle the orange in both hands and he lets her go, holds his own fruit in one hand so he can slide the other into her coat pocket.

She glances at him, her mouth stitched in a grin, snow still caught in her hair so she looks like marble, a statue.

So very beautiful.

They find seats, the church not much more than a space about the size of his living room. A friend of his mother's introduced her to it one Christmas and the three of them have been coming ever since.

Not often. Only really at Easter and Christmas. Well, and that summer. He needed faith in something. Something that couldn't leave him.

Kate's here now, though, standing with him to sing carols and wait for the minister to light her candle. She cradles the flame with one hand, so very protective over it even as she's still singing. He can't stop watching her, his whole body angled slightly so he can see all of her.

She doesn't look at him, her gaze firmly on the service sheet, but she takes his hand, laces her fingers through his.

After the service the four of them walk back to the loft, his mother and his daughter on either side of himself and Kate, laughing about something. He's not really listening, too busy soaking everything up. The streets, heavy with heady anticipation. His beautiful, incredible Kate with her hand still in his.

They tumble through the door and he keeps a hold of Kate's hand, tugs her over to the couch while his kid gets ice cream, his mother goes to change. "Thank you for coming with me."

"It was a really beautiful service. I haven't been to church at Christmas in a really long time." She smiles at him, rests a hand at his cheek to hold him in place while she kisses him.

He keeps it light, a part of him still very much aware of his kid not ten feet away. "I'm so glad you liked it. I'm glad you're here."

"There's nowhere else I'd want to be."

There's a clattering, his mother coming down the stairs and intercepting Alexis, so Castle doesn't get the chance to kiss Kate again, try and show her how very much it means to him that he gets to have her.

But it's okay. His kid swatting at him until he moves up, squeezes himself in at the end of the couch, between the arm and Kate. His mother and Alexis pile in, his daughter pressed all along Kate's left side.

It's so very right, the four of them squashed up together, laughing and shuffling and nudging at each other.

"We have a tradition, Kate darling. We watch I_t's a Wonderful Life_ and then we open one gift each. And then bed." His mother laughs, already clutching the remote.

Kate tucks herself more against his side, cradles his hand in both of hers so she can trace the ridge of his knuckle again and again. "My mom loved that movie."

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, we can-"

"No. It'll be nice to watch it with you all. I want to."

His mother casts him a glance and he shrugs, a half-smile quirking one corner of his mouth.

If Kate's okay with it, then so is he.

* * *

"I still can't believe you got her to sign the poster from _jail_. Jeez, Castle." She's rolling her eyes at him even as she gets into bed, her body coming up against his side so naturally.

He kisses the corner of her mouth, reaches across to flick off the bedside lamp and then comes back to her, finding her mouth easily even in the dark. "But you liked it?"

"Yeah. Thank you. You still owe me that marathon though." Her hand slips under his shirt and he swallows hard, clutches at her.

"Okay. Boxing Day, you're on."

She laughs at that, and then she's kissing him again, toothpaste bursting on his tongue. They separate naturally and she turns, her body pressing back against his, his mouth brushing her ear.

"You know, when Alexis was tiny, we really used to go to town on Christmas Eve."

She hums, rolls back over to face him, two fingers at his chin. "You did?"

"Yeah. During the day we'd bake cookies for Santa, and then she'd set them out with a glass of milk and a carrot for the reindeer." He laughs softly at the memory, his tiny girl with her tongue just poking between her teeth in concentration as she set everything out just so. "And then she'd scatter a handful of reindeer food onto the balcony so they'd know where to go."

Kate raises an eyebrow, curling in tighter against him even as she does so. "Reindeer food?"

"Porridge oats mixed with glitter."

"Oh." He can feel her getting caught up in the rolling cadence of his story, her eyes closed like she's imagining it, and he can't help but wonder whether she's picturing Alexis, or a little girl with darker hair, green eyes instead of blue. Maybe even-

More than one? A boy. Yeah. Kate Beckett's son. His and Kate's. And their little girl too, the two of them holding hands as they watch Mommy pouring the-

She's poking at him then, the soft and tender place below his ribcage, and he squeaks, carries on with his story. "And then we'd read _'twas the night before Christmas _and then when she finally fell asleep I'd put on my sturdiest boots and spray the soles with fake snow, and then I'd walk from the fireplace over to the table. And then I'd drink the milk and eat the cookie and get rid of the carrot, leave a few crumbs and things."

She laughs at him, her mouth so inviting that he can't help but take from her, his kiss slow and careful. He lets her go on a sigh, dusts his lips over her temple as she murmurs to him. "Of course you'd eat the cookie over a carrot."

"Hush, woman." He slides a hand up to rest in the curve of her waist, his thumb almost brushing her navel through her shirt. "And then I'd walk back to the fireplace and fill her stocking and then take the shoes off so the tracks were preserved until morning."

She gives him a smile that has her whole face breaking open, so much light in the near darkness of his bedroom. It's like a divine revelation.

Everything's just so much more laden with meaning tonight. Even her presence means so much more than it did yesterday.

"I know that's probably a little overboard, but she was just such a tiny little thing back then, always so good and so happy even without her mom at Christmas, even with Gina and I fighting. I just wanted to make it special for her." He's not sorry.

Could not ever be sorry for the way his daughter used to look when she emptied her stocking, eyes wide with wonder even as she unpicked the thing so slowly, with so much care. It has him swelling with pride even now. However many ways he may have failed her, he has never let her Christmases be any less than perfect.

Kate's eyes open to meet his, her lashes drifting like shadows, mouth closed but turning up at the corners. "No, it's not overboard. It sounds magical."

"Yeah, it was."

He's losing her to sleep now, her body heavy in the bed, eyelids fluttering again. He kisses her forehead, shifts a little to orient himself around her weight, and then he closes his own eyes too.

He's so very nearly asleep when she speaks again, her voice like molasses.

"I can't wait to see you make Christmas magical for our kids."

* * *

_**Kalon:**_

(n.) beauty that is more than skin deep


	25. Elysian

**December 25: Elysian**

* * *

She wakes up alone in the bed, Castle coming through the door with a tray and a grin so wide she has to close her eyes a moment, wake up just a little more.

He sets the tray down on the bed next to her, climbs in so breakfast is between them. He leans over the food to kiss her, deeper and more invasive than she expected. She opens for him, gives back, her hand coming up to clutch at the back of his neck.

He pulls back, his face cracking open and spilling light onto the sheets, his excitement a hum that rattles her bones, knocks them together so she feels like she could skip breakfast entirely, have him instead.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful."

Kate beams, sits up properly and crosses her legs, yoga pants creasing at the knees. "Merry Christmas Castle. Martha and Alexis up yet?"

"I brought them both breakfast in bed already. They're eating. I said to meet us in the living room for gifts in a half hour." He smiles at her again, spears a strawberry and holds it out for her. She opens her mouth, lets him feed her. Enjoys it more than she thought she might.

She takes the whole bowl of fruit from him, sits back against the pillows to eat. He's shoving toast into his mouth, having to fight with it to get around his grin. She can't remember the last time she saw him smile this much.

Maybe that first morning when she'd come to him with coffee and promises. That she's in this, that she wants him. More than she thought even then, more every day since.

They finish breakfast and Castle takes the tray again, disappears off into the kitchen. Kate takes the quiet moment to find her phone on the nightstand, call her father.

It's early, but he'll be awake. He always has been an early riser. She gets it from him.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad." Kate smiles in spite of herself. The last time Christmas Day felt so right, she was nineteen and it was her mother waking her up with coffee.

She can hear her father's grin in his voice, pictures him sitting at the breakfast table watching the sun come up. "Hey Katie-Bug. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dad. You having a good morning so far?" Kate kicks the covers from her legs, cradles her coffee mug against her chest so its heat can blaze through her sternum, loosen the knot of sleep from around her chest.

"Yeah. Got my coffee, a book. I'm okay."

Kate pauses a moment, the weight of everything they're not saying thick at the back of her throat. "I miss her, Dad."

"Me too, sweetheart." There's a moment of quiet, her father sipping his coffee, Kate crumpling against the headboard. "But she'd want us to be happy. Is Castle unbearably excited?"

"No. He's been so sweet. Everything's made bearable with him, Dad. I can stomach it all. Yesterday, the four of us watched _it's a wonderful life_ and had cocoa. It's so… normal."

She glances up and Castle's there in the doorway watching her, the still-rising sun casting his face into sharp relief. She beckons to him, keeps her mug carefully against her chest as he climbs back into bed, his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm so happy for you Katie. He's so good for you." She knows Castle can hear her father, tinny and far away but still discernible, from the ripple of tension through him, the hitch of his breath.

She kisses his cheek, takes just a second to scrape her teeth at his stubble. "Yeah. He is."

"Are you going to the precinct today?" She hears the note of concern in her father's voice. She does.

He hates that she usually has to work on Christmas. Even though he understands that she doesn't mind, prefers it even to sitting at home missing her mother, he'd still rather she were with people she loves.

"I'm on call." This is news to Castle, too, and he sits up a little, grins at her.

"Oh, well, I hope no one dies today. At least not in your jurisdiction." Her father laughs and it echoes on the line, distorted but losing none of the mirth.

She smirks, shakes her head like her dad can see it. "Yeah, me too."

"Well, I'll let you go. Wish everyone a merry Christmas for me." She can hear the cracking ache in the back of her father's throat, how it grates to let her go.

Kate sighs, catches Castle's fingers in her own and squeezes. "Okay. I'll call you tonight."

"Alright. Katie?"

"Yeah?"

There's a sigh like crumbling marble, centuries of resolve shifting in the wake of the light that spills out of the Castles and cloaks them, her and her father both. "I was thinking of coming back to the city for New Year."

"Oh, yes." Kate's eyelids shutter closed, her breath heavy in her lungs. Her nails bite at the tender skin of Castle's palm as she sucks in air through her teeth, tries not to let hope flood in. "Yeah, Dad. Please do. We'll talk about it later?"

"Okay." She loves the refraction of her father's voice, how his words bend around the curve of his mouth. "Bye Katie. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Dad."

Her father hangs up and she drops her phone to the sheets, her hand free to twine with Castle's. "My dad says Merry Christmas. And that he might come back to the city for New Year's."

"Oh, that'd be nice. Tell him he's welcome to stay here in the guest room if he does." Castle leans in to kiss her and then pulls back on a frown, a whole mountain range between his brows. "That's assuming you'll be here for New Year?"

Kate kisses him, tender and soft and not at all what she really wants, but his family is probably already waiting._ Later_.

"Of course. Where else would I be?"

* * *

His three girls are gathered around the tree. He declared himself master of ceremonies, and now he gets to hand out everyone's gifts. No one's allowed to open anything until everything under the tree has been given to its rightful owner.

Once the space underneath the tree is bare, floorboards he hasn't seen in a month suddenly naked and laid open to him. Speaking of that-

He gets up onto the couch, Kate's body between his legs, and he slides his hands inside the neck of her shirt, smoothes his palms over the curves of her shoulders. Castle leans down, ignores the crack of his spine so he can get his mouth at her ear, nudge his nose against her. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Alexis first?"

His daughter looks up, hair failing over one shoulder and eyes so bright in the grey of the early morning. "Are you sure?"

Kate grins, tips her head back against Castle's knees for just a moment and then straightens, all her attention suddenly on his kid. "Yeah, go for it."

* * *

He hands her the box with trembling hands, his guts cacophonous and threatening to spill up out of him. He's taken a month to get her as close to ready as he can, and still he's terrified.

She rests it against her knees, looks at him a moment like she knows, and he tries for a smile. The corners of his mouth have turned to liquid and he can't do anything, can barely manage not to fall at her feet.

The box is wrapped beautifully, all ribbons and perfectly creased corners, and Kate tugs at the tail of the bow, watches the whole thing fall open.

He holds his breath when she takes the lid off, shifts the tissue paper aside so she can see what he's gotten her.

Two keys, threaded together onto a ribbon so they clink when she lifts them, a finger curled into the loop he tied.

"Two keys?"

"Yeah." He squeaks it; too busy watching her face for any hint of panic to keep control of his vocal chords.

She unties the knot, tips both keys into her palm and inspects them, one at a time. "This is a key to my apartment." She glances up at him, her brows knit. "Castle, what's-"

"I'm giving it back to you. I don't want to need it anymore." She reaches for his hand, clinging, and it's so much more than he ever dared hope for. "The other is a key to the loft."

She holds his gaze for a beat of silence that's ripe with everything that has ever happened between them, all the things he wants for their future, and then she sucks in a breath through her teeth, holds it in her chest and frowns at him again.

"Move in with me, Kate. Come home to me every day. Please."

She gapes at him a moment, her tongue stuck, and he wants to touch her, hold her, beg her for an answer but he doesn't dare move, all of him frozen.

"Don't you think it's too soon?"

"No. Do you?" He finds her fingers still knotted together with his and he squeezes, brushes his thumb against her wrist. "We've had seven months, and they've just confirmed what I knew all along. That however much we fight, however much we may hurt each other, it will always be worth it to get to wake up next to your smile."

"Okay."

She's grinning, thank God, but there are tears in her eyes too, the edge of her smile watery and thin. "Don't cry."

"I'm happy." She laughs, shaking her head at herself, the key still clutched in her fist. "Is this what the whole advent calendar was about?"

"Yeah. To remind you of everything we've already come through, all the ways we've already proven this is going to work." He feels himself beaming, can't quite manage to battle it back, and then he goes for her, catches her up in his arms.

Her mouth is hot and liquid, pouring into his as she clutches at his back. "Thank you. Oh Kate. Thank you. I love you."

"No Castle, thank _you_. This has been such an incredible Christmas." He's drowning in the valleys at the corners of her eyes, how her face is breaking open with light so he's warmed by it.

He can feel his mother's eyes on him, the quietly pleased tilt to his daughter's mouth and yet he doesn't care, just wants to kiss Kate. Again.

Forever.

And she's coming to live with him.

* * *

**And so we reach the end. I think there'll be a chapter to cover New Year's, but I'm not promising anything. Thank you all so much for your support, your beautiful words of praise and your involvement in this story. It has made this such an amazing adventure and I am so very grateful.**

**Love to you all and Merry Christmas!**

* * *

_**Elysian:**_

(adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect


	26. Vorfreude

**December 31: Vorfreude**

* * *

"Hi, beautiful." He captures her, fingers hooked in her belt loops so he can tug her against him, their hips kissing. His mouth tender as he draws a kiss from her. "You are so gorgeous."

Kate laughs, her forehead resting at his throat, fingers smoothing over the back of his shirt. "My dad's here."

"Crap, where?" Castle peers around her, his shoulders thrumming with tension under her palms. "Oh, Mr Beckett, I'm sorry. Please come in."

"Thank you. And please, call me Jim." Her father laughs at the two of them and comes inside, the half-light of the loft casting him in shadows that whisper under his cheekbones; soften the edge of his jaw. He looks old, and her heart stutters in her chest.

Sometimes she dreams about how her mother might look now, fourteen more years of life playing at the corners of her eyes, weaving her hair into silver.

"Can I get you a drink?" Castle takes her father's coat, brushes a kiss to Kate's cheek on his way back to the closet. "You alright, love?"

She turns a smile to him, tangles her knuckles with his as he comes back. "Yes. Yeah. Good." Kate lets him lead her over to the couch, rests a hip against the arm as Castle sits. "You want tea, Dad? Castle?"

"That'd be lovely, Katie." Her father knots his fingers together, rests them on his knees. He's always been a quiet man, so very like Kate in that respect. Taking their time to warm up to people.

Castle stands, angling his body so Jim isn't cut off from the two of them. "I'll help."

Kate arches onto her toes, still in Chucks from this morning. She drove to pick her father up from his place, ended up getting sucked into helping him unpack from the cabin, and now she's the perfect height to graze at Castle's jaw, mouth open just over his pulse where he's missed a patch shaving.

God, she's-

She'll see him shaving. Every day. Probably while she's in the shower getting ready for work. They're going to live together.

She has time still, the lease on her apartment not up until the end of the month, and a part of her is grateful. Even if she _does_ spend most of her time here anyway. Or at her place with him.

Castle doesn't have a teapot or anything so she makes a mug for each of them, two sugars for Rick and none for Kate or her father. Back on the couch, she holds her mug against the mountainous skin of her scar, lets the heat soak in and turn the knot of tension in her chest to water so it gushes into her stomach, tastes like peace at the back of her throat.

Her father has the armchair, herself and Castle on the couch. He's got his arm around her, palm a little too hot where her arm is still wind bitten. Even with a coat, the cold leaches into her bones. "Uh, Dad." Kate glances at Castle, his easy smile like fortification, and then she can meet her father's eyes. "Castle and I are going to move in together."

Her father's face cracks open, light spilling up out of him and he stands, tugs Kate up into a hug and then lets her go to shake Rick's hand, all the breath knocked right out of her. "You've not gotten her pregnant, have you?"

Rick splutters and Jim laughs, turning back to Kate when she swats at him. "_Dad_. No, I'm not pregnant." There's real disappointment behind her father's grin, a flutter of resignation there, and she finds it easy to say things she's not sure she even _means_. "Not yet."

Castle clutches at her hand, turns to her with a sunrise in his eyes. "Kate?"

"Can we- not now, okay? Please."

"Okay. Later, then." Castle seems to remember the mug in his other hand with a start, sinks back into the corner of the couch with it cradled in his palm, and now she's picturing him cradling other things, a tiny head with downy hair like ink spilling between his fingers, tiny curled up fingers and-

Shit. No. she can't do this now. She hasn't even moved in yet, and already their whole life together is spooling out in front of her so she has to battle to catch up, make sure none of it slips out of her grasp. There's still time.

* * *

Martha spills in the door ten minutes before midnight, apparently taking a brief interlude from a party to ring in the year itself with them. She presses a smacking kiss to Jim's cheek and then Kate's, holds her at arm's length a moment to rake her eyes over Beckett.

"Mother, glad you could join us." Castle accepts his mother's hug, ushers her towards the couch with an apologetic glance to Jim. He's laughing, though, shaking his head at Martha with a fondness Kate hasn't seen for a long time.

A really, really long time. A part of her is still worried about that, about how very well the two of them get along. But they're not-

No. Not happening. She refuses. She will not let Castle become her brother.

Castle's in the kitchen, fixing up drinks for everyone to toast with. Kate goes to help, nudging her father towards the couch as she moves past him. Rick passes her the carton of fresh orange juice, the glasses already filled with vodka for the three of them and lemonade for her father.

She knows the Castles usually toast with champagne. Last year, Castle called her with a minute to go so he could make sure he was the very first to wish her a happy New Year and she heard the cork pop over the phone, Martha's laughter as it bubbled over.

Rick rests a hip at the counter and watches her, his fingers snaking their way into her back pocket and wriggling. She's always been at home in his kitchen, but this feels different.

This feels like the two of them, a united front, having the parents over for New Year. It feels like _their _kitchen.

Castle passes the drinks around and the four of them crowd into his study. Usually, his television being in here isn't an issue, but right now it's a tight squeeze. Kate ends up sitting in Castle's lap, his arms around her thighs to keep here there and balanced.

Kate knows her father usually doesn't see the ball drop, since the cabin doesn't have a television. Actually, she can't remember the last time he was in the city to see in the New Year.

Well. Yeah. 1999.

If only she could have known she only had a little over a week left with her mother, maybe she would have stayed at home.

She rests her head against Castle's shoulder, lets him smooth her hair back out of her face and kiss her, the two of them suddenly the only ones in the city.

She really sort of hates New Years, hates January, hates the cold.

But, yeah. She loves him.

* * *

Castle catches Kate's hand in his own with two minutes to go, tugs her up off of the couch and nudges her out onto the balcony. He loves his mother, he does, but she's loud and vibrant and maybe it's a little cruel, passing her off on Jim, but he wants Kate all to himself just for a couple of minutes.

She's smirking at him like she knows but she lets him hold her, her back flush with his chest, both hands cradling one of his. He kisses her jaw, crests up to her temple and rests there, just breathing her in.

"Have you ever been to Times Square?" She moves forward to lean against the balustrade, dragging him with her so he can drive his hips against hers and pin her in place.

She's got her hair up, knotted on top of her head, and he gets to press kiss after kiss to the back of her neck, catch his teeth in the translucent skin. "Yeah, with Meredith a couple of times. She wanted to do the clichéd kiss." He laughs into Kate's hairline, comes around so he can see her.

She pillows her head against his chest, her hand fisted in his shirt. "The three of us did when I was fifteen. Too many people, I hated it." She laughs at herself and Castle clutches her tighter, his beautiful Kate.

"I love you. Thank you for this year."

"Started rough though, huh? A tiger, and then the Hudson, and then-" she bites her lip, nuzzles into him, and he knows she's thinking about how they almost lost each other.

He takes her hair down, careful not to hurt her, and then he can card a hand through it, kiss her crown. "And then you made the best decision ever and showed up at my door."

She laughs at that, presses an open mouthed kiss to his heart. Through his shirt, but still the tender, stupid thing kicks against his ribs. "Yeah. That might be the best thing I ever did."

"_Might_? And here I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together."

He hears his mother stamping her feet inside and he laughs, eases Kate to turn and face him. Inside, he hears New York erupting with joy and hope and promise for a new year, a new start, but it all fades away.

He leans in to kiss her and her face opens into that smile, the one she gave him in front of the tree a week ago. "Yeah. The rest of our lives."

"Happy New Year, Kate."

* * *

They say that whatever you're doing when the ball drops, you'll spend the whole of the next year.

And, well-

he fully intends to spend the next year kissing Kate Beckett.

* * *

_**Vorfreude:**_

(n.) the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures

* * *

**Happy happy happy New Year! I hope you're all surrounded by loved ones, and I hope this year brings you good things. Thank you all for making the end of this year something wonderful to me, it really does mean a lot.**

**And alas, now I must really say farewell. It's been a pleasure. **


End file.
